Zero Point
by Feuerstoss
Summary: A young Cerinian vixen finds her homeworld destroyed and is stranded on a hostile planet. Finding a young soldier who is also there under similar circumstances, they struggle to survive and learn the secrets of their strange new surroundings. Little do they know their actions will play a huge role in a conspiracy of galactic proportions.
1. Prologue

**Author's Notes: Well, here it starts. This is the rewrite to my previous story, _The Saurian Gambit._ Based on your feedback, I decided to change things around a little bit. Firstly, even though the prologue might delve a bit onto what happened to Cerinia, rest assured that the plot will be much closer to the SFA game than the original story. I also decided to start out with Krystal's POV instead of Brian's... hopeful I don't write her in as too much of an emotional wreck, but the loss she experiences coupled with what happens when she finds herself on Sauria is going to be a central element of the story. Brian's part comes in on the next chapter; you will find I have done some changes to him as well.**

**You won't find rampant OCs in this story, and I haven't fully decided if the canon Star Fox team will really play a part, either. If enough of you want Fox and Co. to play a part, I will definitely write them in, but it will be closer to the end than the beginning in any case. The only human OC in any case will be Brian. I have the next chapter already written, but I want to get people's opinions on this piece before releasing it. That one will be a bit more action-packed, believe me.  
**

**My profuse thanks to JyrFalcon345 for a great deal of help and ideas surrounding this rewrite, as well as everyone who chimed in with their thoughts about doing this rewrite. I cooked up this particular scene just tonight, so let me know what you guys think.**

Prologue: Innocence Lost.

Even though it was in the early hours of the morning, the Great Hall was packed with Cerinians. The massive stone structure was one of the main buildings in the small city of Cassat... home to the Family of Haleth. One could almost taste the excitement in the air, even at the late hour as it was. The one hundred fifty-four blue-furred vulpines present were there to witness a great event... an Ascendancy of one of the hopefuls from the Council Family.

The rituals of Ascendancy were much like a coming of age, although only those Cerinians that had aptitude in an Aspect of the Art were able to undergo the trials. The trials were ancient, and the few who were chosen to take them regarded it as the highest honor possible... other than joining the Cerinian High Council.

One of the two Cerinian honor guards at the doors of the Hall turned around, addressing the gathering with words that held much promise. "The candidate approaches! She has obtained the Weight of Trials!" Everyone turned around to look out the door... seeing a lone figure bearing a large stone start to scale the steps leading to the building.

Carrying the Weight was the last trial to be endured before completing the Ascendancy. The physical endurance of the candidate was tested to the breaking point, as Council members were expected to be strong in the body as well as the mind. The heavy stone was carried for a distance that would equate to twelve miles in human terms, and a weight of nearly ninety pounds.

The figure entered the building, dressed in the traditional clothing of candidates taking the Trials. She was clad in ceremonial pauldrons, bracers and greaves, and clothed only in the top and loincloth that was mandated by tradition. She held the stone in both arms, and her exhaustion was noticed by everyone... even those without an sort of telepathic ability. The vixen continued without a word to the end of the Hall where three other Cerinians stood expectantly, dressed in flowing white robes... Priests of Melos.

Slowly and reverently, she set the Weight down in front of the priests, only then allowing herself to take a few deep breaths. "The child has returned to the fold, only not a child any longer." She had to keep a straight face for the end of the ritual, but inside she knew she was triumphant and wanted to cheer. "Please pass your judgment on me, servants of the Creator."

The head priest knelt down and placed his paws on the Weight... offering the young vixen a soft smile as he did so. The Weight also held the experiences of the candidate's Trials, and would be used to judge if she had performed her given tasks acceptably. "You are a child no longer, Krystal of Family Haleth. You have performed admirably, and Melos is pleased to have a Guardian such as yourself."

Krystal grinned, even through her exhaustion. She had made it... her years of training in the Art had not been for naught. She would eventually become a Council Member, and stand by her parents at the proceedings... and she would help guide her homeworld and keep it safe. It was something every Cerinian dreamed of doing, and something so few actually got the chance to pursue. "Thank you, Teacher." She beamed up at the priest, who had been her mentor and teacher since she was a little kit. "I am glad I have not failed any of you."

"And for that trust, you have earned the right to become a Guardian, Krystal." He held out his paw, and one of the other priests handed him an object. Barely a foot and a half long, it was the traditional weapon of a Guardian as well as the symbol of their duties to protect Cerinia. The staff extended in the priest's paw, and he gently lowered it to the vixen. "Take your place amongst us, and do us honor." With trembling paws, Krystal grasped the staff. It was lighter than she expected it to be, yet she had been taught from her training classes that they were infused with magical energy and almost indestructible.

Applause shot through the audience, and Krystal was confronted with a throng of her family, friends, and even some strangers offering their congratulations and well wishes. She startled as a pair of arms wound around her, sweeping her up into a hug. She looked behind her, her excited puzzlement turning into an expression of relief. "Maloc!" she cried. "You managed to come!"

Maloc was her brother, a slightly taller and more heavily built Cerinian. While he had passable ability in the Art, he had no interest in becoming a guardian, and was actually one of the more successful merchants in their region. He had been dealing with some traders from the Lylat system, who even now were coming less and less frequently. High-tech trade goods were luxury items for the elite, and Maloc had made more than his fair share of silver by dealing in them. "Silly! I wouldn't miss my little sister's Ascendancy for all the silver in the world!" He hugged her even tighter, beaming at his sibling.

Krystal beamed back. "Thank you, brother! I'm so glad you showed up... the party is to be held tomorrow, and I think Keyla will be there..." she winked at him. "I know you two would take an interest in one another."

Maloc chuckled and set her down. "You and wanting to play matchmaker with me. And, no, I haven't found a handsome Lylatian that I'd take you to go meet, so don't ask." At her playful pout, he reached out and ruffled her headfur. "Now, let's go and find Mom and Dad, Krys." Guiding her through the jovial crowd, they attempted to find their parents.

They never got the chance. The priest's voice boomed out over the chatter of the crowd, and this time it sounded urgent. "Guards! Something hostile approaches! They are surrounding the Hall as we speak! Take defensive measures.. protect the guests!"

The six Guardians selected to act as honor guards moved through the crowd, their staffs extending with a barely perceptible glow of energy. Krystal hefted her own, but was stopped by a paw on her shoulder.

Their father, Haran, stood behind her as well as her mother, Yitana. He shook his head. "You might be a Guardian now, Krys, but this is not your fight. Something is amiss... we are being attacked by unknown forces."

"Father! I swore that I would protect our people, and if I have to, I shall!" Krystal pleaded, her senses as well as that of the other telepaths in the Hall were poking out, trying to sense the unknown enemy. Cerinia was by and large peaceful... why would someone be moving out to attack them?

"Now is not the time, Krystal!" Yitana chimed in. "You are a prospective member of the Council... and you are a Channeler as well as a telepath. We will let the others protect us, as we are honor-bound to let them do." She was not trying to be a coward... she knew that all of them were simply too important to come to harm.

Maloc placed his paw on Krystal's other shoulder, as his other withdrew a Lylatian blaster pistol. Since he had never gone through the Trials, he didn't have a Staff... and unlike the miriad of spears, swords, and ranged magical devices other Cerinians carried as weapons, he preferred the high-tech Lylat weapons that he had gotten a hold of. Blasters were rare on Cerinia, even amongst the elite... and for good reason. "We'll get you out of this, and if the Guardians haven't kicked their tails, I'll come back for more!"

The Guardians moved outside the Hall as the other Cerinians stayed where they were. The six staff-wielding warriors saw the group moving towards the building... ten of them. The group was dressed in red armor, and also wielding blasters. They were obviously from the Lylat System. The six Guardians activated the shielding matrices on their staffs, standing their ground.

The Lylatians fired first, knowing that the Cerinians had sensed their intent from the get-go. The battle would be hard, but the objective had to be gained. The red-suited soldiers were hand-picked for this job from the remains of the once-powerful Venom military, and knew that the stakes were high. Red blaster bolts bounced off Cerinian energy shields, although one of them was armed with a grenade launcher. This one didn't bother targeting the defenders... opting instead to fire three green cylinders into the open door of the Hall.

The canisters bounced into the main room, and Cerinians scattered. A thick orange fog began to spew out of them... Maloc grabbed Krystal's arm. "We need to get out of here!" Without waiting for their parents, he pulled Krystal behind the ceremonial stage and through the short hallway that let through the priests' chambers.

As Haran and Yitana followed, Krystal looked back. Several of her friends were enveloped by the fog, and she saw them clutch their throats and crumple to the ground. "No!" she screamed, trying to tear out of her brother's grasp... which tightened to the point of causing pain.

"Don't be foolish, Krys!" he snapped at her. "That stuff will kill you if you breathe it in. I'm sorry, but we need to get out of here, now!" With that he picked up his struggling sister, running off into the night with their parents not far behind.

--

The Red Storm soldiers, once the elite special forces division of the Venom Imperial Navy, fired back at their Cerinian adversaries. The red flash of blaster bolts clashed with the flaming pulses of energy the Guardians' staffs fired back. Two Venom soldiers were hit, the flames incinerating their armor as well as their bodies... the simple-looking weapons weren't anything to sneeze at.

The Gramet gas they fired into the building was doing its job. It was a calculated risk... the stuff was extremely lethal but they were figuring that it would serve to rout the Channeler from the building. Several other operations were in place around the planet,trying to capture the six other individuals with that particular ability... identified by intelligence teams that had spent upwards of a year gaining that information.

Even with a decent portion of the population sporting psychic skills, infiltrating the planet had been deceptively easy. All the 'hard' intel had been unwittingly gained from the Cornerian Traders' Guild, whose braver members had taken the three month-long Slipspace trip to Cerinia in the first place. Spying on them and hacking into their records had been extremely easy... finding out who the Channelers were, however, had been a different story.

Still, the Red Storm troops had a job to do, and even though their numbers were dwindling, their main purpose was to make a distraction... to lure the Channeler to the nearest spacecraft. After they were captured, they would slag the planet from space... no witness were to survive the event that had been eight years in the making. As they continued firing, two of the Guardians fell to the assault. Others staggered out of the entrance of the building, either dying of the gas or of the blaster bolts that soon followed. The surviving members of the team grinned as they started to mop up. They were making history... history at the barrel of a blaster.

--

Maloc set Krystal down as they cut through the path in the forest, rushing at full speed. The sounds of battle carried over the night air; apparently the Lylatians... no, those were Venom troops, he was sure of it... were attacking all over. He could hear the occasional sob from his sister; knowing full well that most of her childhood friends were dead. He wished there was something he could do for her, but he couldn't... except to keep her alive. _'The bastards want her for something, I'm sure of it.'_ he thought, knowing full well that she could sense him.

"Why do they want me?" Krystal choked. At least they were together as a family, and were going to get away from their attackers. "Why kill everyone just to get at me!?" She was visibly and emotionally upset, the confusion and pain of the attack burning themselves in her mind.

Her father spoke up next. "None of us know, Krystal. I doubt even they know... they had been ordered to take you prisoner, but were not told the specific reason. We are dealing with someone who knows about us as well as your abilities... and will stop at nothing to use them." He sent calming thoughts to his daughter's mind... trying to ease the blow they all had been dealt. "We will not take this lightly."

"There's not much we can do, Dad." Meloc sighed. "These are Venom troops. They fought a war with Corneria years ago and were soundly defeated, but they have warships, armored vehicles... the only way to make sure Krys is safe is to get her off-planet without them noticing."

Yitana nodded. "We can't come with her... we will need to divert their attention so she is not found. Do you have a way to do it?"

Meloc nodded, keeping the details behind a mental block. As the sole non-telepath of their family he had learned to block off his thoughts very quickly. The only way to get her off-planet and escape any Venom sensor nets was one that would cause his sister severe discomfort... but it had to be done. He would feel sorry for what he did later, but it would have to be done.

By pure dumb luck they reached the small clearing in which their craft was long before the Venom troops that were supposed to be waiting for them had showed up... being redirected from engaging the _jaser_, or Cerinian police forces stationed around the city. The shortcut they took had been an unexpected boon to the Haleth family.

The _Vucsed_ luxury shuttlecraft Meloc had ensured they got a very good deal for sat behind their house. It was seldom used, and never as a true spacecraft... only for short-range cross-planet trips. They had cleared the ship out over the season since there were no scheduled trips to the main Council gathering for the next few months at least. The four Cerinians scaled the entrance ramp... Krystal turning to the others. "No... I don't want to leave you!" Tears brimmed her eyes, spilling over to soak into her fur. "Why can't you come with me?"

Yitana sighed, wrapping her arms around her daughter in a tight hug. "We cannot, star blossom. You must promise to stay strong. You are a Guardian now... and there will be trials ahead of you. We will come for you, I..."

The embrace saved Krystal's life. A red bolt shot out from the forest ahead, and she felt her mother stiffen in her arms, her grip loosening as she slipped to the floor. _"Mom!"_ she cried out, grasping for Yitana as her brother pulled her away.

Haran engaged the shield matrix on his staff, moving forward with tears in his eyes... and Krystal could feel the rage that poured from his very soul. "Get Krys off the planet, _now!_ I'm going to take care of this... this fatherless spawn of Jalat! I will damn him to the _Void!_" With that he started forward, a couple of the blaster bolts that were fired at him bouncing off the matrix. The enemy had to be a long way off, considering the fact they couldn't sense them.

Meloc held back his own tears, and Krystal was clutching at the body of her mother. "Please, don't go..." the vixen sobbed, looking up at her brother. "Why? Why all... this?"

"I don't know, Kryssy." He used his old nickname for her when they were kits. "Let Dad take care of it, but we need to get you somewhere safe." With a sigh he led her into the _Vucsed_, and headed for the bridge... bypassing the luxurious living quarters the executive-class craft had with nary a glance.

The bridge was decked out with what had been the latest and greatest personal starfaring technology several years ago. It was still leaps and bounds ahead of what Cerinian raw tech was... and the onboard computer system had a protocol designed just for this. He pressed the call button, and was greeted with a chime. The shuttle was equipped with a 'dumb' AI, or a majorly stripped-down variant of a capital ship's artificial intelligence system. The system was designed in Corneria, and he had to operate it by speaking in Lylat. "Computer, initiate Executive emergency protocol Alpha. Passcode 8736-JG54." With another chime, the computer's 'voice' echoed through a tinny speaker; a flat male monotone that had never received a voice package like most 'dumb' AIs ever produced.

"Passcode is accepted. Silent running protocols activated. Stasis bay unoccupied, please ready occupant for emergency travel. Destination coordinates are Kramer Station, Aquas Orbit, Docking Bay Seven. Estimated power drain from current location is eighty-seven point eight percent. Takeoff will commence in six minutes; please ensure occupant is readied before this time." The computer chimed once more, and Meloc exited the bridge with a sigh.

Krystal was slumped on the floor, her head in her paws and still sobbing. He didn't blame her, he was feeling the tears come on himself. He missed their mom terribly, and the shock of it happening was taking its toll on them both. He placed his paws on her shoulder, drawing her into another embrace. "It'll be okay, Kryssy. Mom'll be looking over us in the Beyond, and when we pass there ourselves, we will be there with her." He was saying that partly to comfort himself, but he felt Krystal nod into his shoulder. "You're not safe here, sis. Come with me... we need to get you off Cerinia safely.

"Why can't you come with me? I don't want to be alone!" Krystal tried to hold back another wave of tears as her brother led her down a flight of steps. She wasn't sure why they were heading for the rec room, but as they passed it she realized they were going to the medical bay. The worst they used it for was when she had broken her arm five summers ago... and Lylat medical technology made it heal up within two weeks. "Why... why are we in here?"

Meloc sighed, his brown eyes looking into his sister's green ones. "Krystal, I'm so sorry to do this, but the only way to get you out of here alive is for the ship to be completely powered off. This means thermal scans, power scans, everything. I put in a program that will send you to a location in the Lylat system." He guided her towards the back of the medbay, where a circular chamber lay in an alcove. It looked like a coffin, almost, but Krystal didn't know what it was.

"When you take off, I'm going to take Dad and get on one of their ships. I'll meet you in Aquas. Just stay on the ship; I've got a contract on this ship there just in case... the station attendants will take care of you for free, so don't worry about that." Meloc motioned her over towards the 'coffin', which he opened. "I'm so sorry I have to do this."

"What, brother?" Krystal sighed, looking disinterestedly into the contraption. It looked like a bed, although it was lined with foam it didn't look all too comfortable. She suddenly realized what was going on. "I... I have to be shut in there?"

Her brother nodded, sighing once more. "It's a stasis chamber, Kryssy. Because the ship is running silent, the life support will not be on, and everything needs to run as minimally as possible. The chamber will keep you alive until you reach Aquas. I'm going to be blunt about this... you will be unconscious throughout the entire trip, but waking up from stasis is _extremely_ uncomfortable, sis."

Krystal gulped and nodded, the sudden realization that she was going into the chamber whether she liked it or not working its way into her mind. Beyond their shared sorrow she could sense her brother's remorse for sticking her inside it. "I'll... I'll do it. With a deep breath she slid into the machine, feeling the foam conform to her body. She placed her staff on a nearby shelf and laid down... the foam cold to the touch but surprisingly cushioned. "Promise me that you and Dad will be there."

"We will, Krystal. You will go to sleep, and when you wake up we will not be far behind. He grasped her paw tightly. "We will find out who did this... and we will hold them accountable for their crimes. Rest easy, sis." With a sigh he closed the lid and made his way out of the spaceship... and into an uncertain fate for all of them.

Krystal was enclosed in darkness, the foam absorbing all sound. She was alone with her thoughts, letting memories of her friends and her mother come to light... the good times and the bad. She started sobbing once more... the priest had warned her that there would be great trials in her life, but he never mentioned anything like this.

The voice that came into her ears was that of the ship's computer... which startled her out of her thoughts. Within the cocoon she couldn't move that far, and had to listen to what it had to say. Her brother had taught her most of the Lylat language, but she was still a bit rusty. "Stasis program initiated. Please follow instructions to ensure proper induction procedures. Failure to follow instructions may result in hyper-accelerated neurological decay. Look up into the light."

A tiny light in the top of the chamber switched on, and Krystal had no choice _but_ to look at it. The tiny amount of light it actually put out would have been laughable had she not been enclosed in the dark for several minutes, but with the circumstances it was nearly as bright as the Life Star. Still, she looked into it, trying not to squint. As she did so, she felt a pricking sensation in several spots, and the foam seemed to shrink in on her.

"Brainwave patterns recognized. Vital signs registering as normal for vulpine body type." The vixen yelped as something stuck her in the arms and legs... needles. The one thing she hated about Lylat technology was their need for injections. The needles hurt, but then stopped... her arms, legs, and then tail becoming numb. It was a strange feeling. "Initial sedative injection administered. Say the word "yes" when you can no longer move your arms, legs, or tail. Move said limbs once every ten seconds.

It took thirty seconds... her appendages first feeling like they were being weighed down with lead, and then as if they had been removed entirely. "Yes." Krystal noticed her voice was slurring a bit... an effect of what she had been injected with?

"The final procedure will commence shortly. Once stasis commences, the emergency protocol will engage. All sensor arrays, life support, and non-propulsion systems will be kept at minimal levels to avoid sensor detection." As the computer droned on she felt some sort of mask being applied to her face. The cool, metallic tang of recycled air rushed into her lungs as she took a breath, feeling her body slowly fade from her senses. Some sort of liquid started pouring into the chamber, soaking into her fur. It felt very cold, but the feeling quickly faded with most of her senses.

A sickly-sweet scent wafted into the mask, but she couldn't even feel enough of her body to struggle. Before she knew it she sank into a pit of darkness... feeling nothing else.


	2. 1: At What Cost?

**Author's Notes: ** **Wow. I know I only posted up the new story for a few hours, but it looks like it's been well-received already. So, here's the first actual chapter, this time from Brian's point of view. I have changed the setting somewhat, as he is still a Marine and not a mercenary... might make things a little interesting. I'll end up having the two meet sooner rather than later, but other than some changes at the beginning of the story a lot of it will follow the _Adventures_ plot. Anyway, before I run off for the day here's the first actual chapter.**

Chapter 1: At What Cost?

April 7, 2004

Fallujah, Iraq

18:37 Local Time.

The sandy rattle of distant gunfire was a constant companion to Sergeant Brian Lancing. The young soldier and the men he led was surrounded by it, a constant reminder of the war they were fighting and the danger they were in. Even so, it was pretty much business as usual for the squad of experienced and battle-hardened Marines.

"Bastards just won't let up, will they?" Corporal Rico Morales, his second in command, huffed. All of them weren't in the best of moods. With temperatures still hovering in the '90s, the eight men were hot and tired. Their combat gear and armor weighed them down, and a day spent running around and the occasional battle just made the armed men slightly disagreeable. He hefted his M240G machine gun.

A departure from the standard M249 SAW, Brian saw fit to arm them with heavier weapons in the city. He had personally picked up an M14, slapping a scope on the weapon to provide a makeshift designated marksman rifle. Both the M240 and M14 fired the 7.62x51mm round, a heavy, older cartridge that still provided a nasty punch. Most of the other members of his squad used a mixed bag of M4 Carbines and M16 rifles that fired the standard 5.56x45mm round... a far better choice for close-quarter fighting.

"That's why we're here, Morales. Maybe we can get these guys out of here before they can kill fellow Marines, not to mention locals." Brian offered a disgusted expression to his SiC. They had seen many screwed up events in their two and a half years in the Marines. War truly was Hell, no matter how you sliced it. His uncle Nathan had done two tours in Vietnam, and he had strived to follow in his footsteps. It was a dirty business, but he had the lives of his squadmates to protect... not to mention the fact he was fighting for his country. Brian had dropped out of college for this, and he was going to make sure he did something that mattered.

"Might as well carpet bomb the whole God-damned place." Jack Graines, the section leader for the other fireteam, spoke up. He was a bit hotheaded, but he kept his cool under fire. "Yeah, yeah, gotta protect the civvies, but when half of them are insurgents anyway..."

"Stow it, Graines." Brian commanded. "It's dangerous, dirty work, but you knew what you were in for when you signed your contract." The sergeant glanced to his assembled comrades. "We're running a little short on time, so we're going to make one more run. We're holding the line three blocks west of here..." he paused as a not-so-distant explosion rattled the windows of nearby buildings. He noted with a bit of pride that none of his command flinched. "As I was saying, we've got an established line three blocks west of here. We're going out for one more incursion before we pack it in... maybe we can rout them from that bank building they've been hiding in."

The insurgents weren't making it easy, and they had quite some time to prepare for the Marines' combined assault. One stronghold in particular had been a bank at one point... now firmly reinforced by enemy snipers and RPG launchers. Due to its proximity to a residential district, the brass had been very reluctant to call in an airstrike... Brian understood their reasons, but the bank had been a thorn in their side for the past three days. Still, his squad would be willing to follow him to Hell and back if they needed to. Brian would be willing to do the same. "So, let's pack it up and move on in. Everyone keep on full alert; this ain't Easy Street."

"Let's get the pressure off our brothers' backs, man!" The voice called out. Ken Richards, one of the rookies. Well-trained like all Marines but a complete greenhorn, Richards was one of the grenadiers. Equipped with an M16 with an M203 grenade launcher, even a few skirmishes in Fallujah hadn't tempered his need to be in the fight... unlike the more experienced Marines.

"Well, if you're ready, let's get to it." Brian motioned his men forward, holding his M14 in a low ready position. While tired and heavily laden with combat gear, at least his command was in good spirits.

* * *

"Fuck!" Morales cursed as he ducked behind a crumbling brick wall, the crackling report of automatic weapons fire chasing his position. Bullets intended to tear through unprotected flesh slammed into the unyielding wall and the building that lay behind it, punching new holes into a mural faded by years of sun. The big machine-gunner lifted his M240 over the wall and fired back blindly in response, attempting to drive his attackers back. "This ain't just a damn bank, mano! They've got it locked up better than Fort Knox!"

Brian was backed up against the wall several meters to his SiC's right. The muffled _crump_ of grenades went off; the insurgents held up in the bank were doing their damnedest to turn the attacking Marines into grease spots. He gripped his M14 in hands encased with Nomex gloves... the heat of the waning day all but ignored as his men went into pitched battle. His nightvision equipment was tucked in the large combat pack he wore... and he had no time to take it out if the battle extended into the dark. "You're telling me, man!" he called out over the sounds of fighting. The rest of his squad was busy holding the line, firing all they had into the building. "Something about this ain't right!"

"_Something?_ More like everything, if you ask me!" Morales shot back before lifting his heavy machine gun over the wall, laying down another burst of suppressive fire. "Get your ass to the end of the wall, Sarge! I'll draw their attention. Having a damn sniper out there will do us some good!"

Lancing nodded... Morales had a point. Giving his friend a salute, he ran forward... Morales doing his part and blazing through ammo to keep the enemy's heads down. He soon reached the end of the wall and fell to his belly; the Dragon Skin body armor he had purchased softening the blow just a little. His parents had helped him out with the purchase, and the stuff had saved his life once... a damn good investment. Most of his squad had bought some of their own, and he had loaned out a paycheck or two to help. His armor, however, was the furthest thing on his mind as he shouldered his M14.

Brian got his first good look at the bank since it had become such a problem to his fellow Marines. Three stories tall and constructed of the same stucco-like material that was common all throughout the Middle East, the place was a veritable fortress to begin with. He hoped to God that Morales got all of their attention, because he was about to make some serious noise.

The Marine peered through the M14's scope, seeing a muzzle flash go off from behind a window on the second floor. _'Gotcha.'_ Brian thought as he put the scope's crosshairs just above the flash. He pulled the trigger, the rifle thundering in his ear and its recoil bringing him off target. He wasn't sure if he had hit the insurgent, but that was another matter as he tried for another target.

Another man was ducked behind a pile of sandbags, firing an RPK machine gun at the second squad's position. The man was unaware of his presence, and it was an easy shot. He pulled the trigger again... the M14 cracked once more, and the man fell as if he were a puppet with its strings cut.

He tried to line up a third target but his luck just about ran out. A muzzle flash on the third floor winked at him, and bullets started chewing at the rubble-filled ground in front of him. With a yelp he pulled back before a few bullets could core his body. "One confirmed, another possible! They didn't like that, now did they?"

"Ooh-rah!" Morales gave the traditional Marine battle cry. "We'll whittle them down if we have to!" He threw Brian a thumb's up as he scrambled back into position. "Belt's getting a little light though, dude!"

"Dammit." Brian spat. "How much do you have?" While he was the designated marksman, he carried a little more ammo than usual. Ten magazines, or two hundred rounds, was his usual loadout. While it was the same 7.62mm as Morales' M240, the machine gun used disintegrating belts. His ammunition wouldn't work without being preloaded, and that posed a problem.

"Got one more belt, so a little over a hundred rounds." Morales grit his teeth. That wasn't much considering he had a machine gun. Still, a few soldiers carried an extra belt. Brian was about to grab one from one of them, when he received the news. "Jacobson and Sawyer already gave 'em to me, Sarge."

"Shit." Brian cursed. "Listen. I'll make a run back to the checkpoint, grab a couple boxes. Hold out for fifteen minutes, tops. If I'm held up..." The soldier lifted his radio. "...I'll buzz you. Chill with that?"

"I'm chill, Sarge. I'll owe you a beer before all this is done." He responded with a grin, clapping a massive hand on his commander's shoulder.

"Rico, you already owe me a case." Brian shot him a silly grin. "Now, cover my ass so I can get outta here."

"With pleasure, sir." The big Marine lifted his machine gun once more... letting more high-velocity lead slam into the building... and hopefully some of the insurgents. Brian took the chance and slipped through a nearby alleyway, making sure to move under cover and not get noticed.

Even though the real battle was being fought at the bank, there was still danger lurking around every corner... especially for a solitary Marine. He was breaking more than a couple of rules running off on his own, but he needed his entire command at the front. Insurgents moved freely among the population, and it wasn't uncommon to have support amongst the civilians. Masquerading as Uncle Joe during the day, and then coming out with an AK at night. He let the M14 drop on his tactical sling and then pulled out his sidearm... a much more maneuverable weapon to use among the closely-packed buildings.

The pistol used to be his grandfather's. He had also been a sergeant in the Army during World War II, and had made it a point to purchase it after he got out of the service. The old Colt M1911A1 had sat in a desk drawer of his home, awaiting the day that it might be used against a burglar. That day never came, and he had passed the handgun off to Brian as a 'good luck' piece just before he went to Afghanistan. The sixty year-old weapon still served him well, even though it didn't have the fancy toys that other soldiers had grafted onto their pistols.

Brian couldn't take his time clearing the alleys that he popped into, but he made haste towards the checkpoint. He stopped for anything suspicious, and made sure he didn't walk into a possible IED or ambush. Several minutes later he found himself at the checkpoint... a mere eight blocks away.

He had holstered his 1911 before walking up to the blocked-off road. Two Humvees and a myriad of sandbag walls littered the area... making it a decently defensible location. It would have been suicide to try to make a full-on attack... but in a world where suicide attacks were the norm you came to expect anything. The two men that glanced at him didn't bother to salute... to do so was to call attention to a possible sniper.

"Where the hell is your squad, Lancing?" one of them remarked. He manned a Browning M2 .50-caliber machine gun mounted on one of the Humvees. "We're still hearing them giving them hell, but damn... you shouldn't be back here without 'em!"

"Sorry, man." Brian responded. "Morales is running his pig almost dry, and I need to get some more ammo to him." He shrugged apologetically, even though he outranked everyone else there. There was more to being a leader than giving orders... you had to earn the respect of your men.

"You must be wearing them down bad, sir." Another Marine replied, already digging into a crate. "Seven-six-two, right?" As Brian nodded he extracted two heavy bags. "Hundred rounds each. All I've got... tell him to use it wisely because the supply truck won't come 'till the morning."

"Gotcha." Brian replied, pausing as he heard another vehicle approach... the unmistakable diesel rumble of another Humvee. He glanced up at the last moment as the lightly armored transport crunched to a halt in front of him. The doors opened and two men jumped out. The driver looked to be a corporal, but the passenger wore the blacked-out insignia of a full-bird Colonel. The man was his regimental commander, Lyle Hammond.

Hammond was a pure Marine, even at the age of sixty. Having served in Vietnam gave the old man a grizzled nature, but he also proved his worth. He also commanded respect by forgoing most of the 'bureaucratic bullshit', in his own words. Hammond also was tough as nails; often visiting the front lines to better direct the forces under his command.

Brian snapped to attention, almost giving the man a salute... though everyone there full well understood the danger of an insurgent sniper. "Sir!" he called out, giving his commanding officer a respectful nod.

Hammond wasted no time, pointing down the road. "Sergeant Lancing, Bravo Squad leader, right?" the colonel asked. At Brian's nod, he turned to the younger Marine. "Why the Hell aren't you with your squad, Sergeant? If you don't give me a good answer, I swear to God I'll have your stripes _after_ you spend the rest of your tour doing latrine duty!" Hammond didn't take any flak, nor was he ever given any.

Brian stiffened at the reprimand. "Sir, the squad machine gunner was running out of ammunition. I was the only one available to run back and grab some. I went alone, and was just about to go back to load him up, sir!" It was the best he could say at such a short notice.

The officer nodded at his subordinate, cracking a slight smile as he heard the explanation. "Well, Sergeant, I'm glad to see a Marine personally making sure his squadmates' shit is in order. Next time, make sure to take someone with you... we don't need you getting your ass shot off out there!" Before Brian could respond, Hammond continued. "Someone fucked up down the chain, Marine. Your squad is _not_ supposed to be out there. Get their asses back here, and pronto, son. You're about to witness a new chapter in the history of warfare, and you now have a front-row seat."

"Sir?" Brian asked. Something was going to happen, but he had no idea what. He could hear the distant rattle of small arms fire intensify, and then the radio on his waist crackled. _"Echo Bravo Two, calling Echo Bravo One. We're getting into some deep shit, Sarge! I've ran dry, and a couple of us are running mighty low... they're turning up the heat! Get back here and load us up!"_ Morales' voice had a sense of urgency... his friends were on the verge of getting shot up.

Hammond swore under his breath. "Take that Humvee, son." He pointed to the one he had pulled up in; one of the nicer, armored variants equipped with an M2 machine gun on top of a lightly armored turret. "Get your ass down there. You have... four minutes before the Skystrike project makes its debut, Marine."

"Skystrike, sir?" Brian asked as the occupants of the aforementioned Humvee piled out. They knew full well not to disobey even an indirect order... plus they understood the power of the weapon they were about to deploy.

"Not much time to talk about that, son." Hammond shook his head. "You didn't hear it from me, but it is a first strike orbital weapons system... an ion cannon, from what they said. Rumor has it it came from Dreamland, and the Chair Force boys have been itching to use it." The colonel expressed his disdain for the Air Force, who seemed to sit in their cushioned chairs and let their laser-guided bombs do all the hard work. Dreamland was another name for the famous facility called Area 51... and Skystrike sounded exotic and alien enough to have actually come from there. "So, get over there and pull your boys out. Those insurgents won't know what hit them until they start getting poked in the ass by the Devil."

"Sir, yes sir!" Brian called out, rushing towards the Humvee immediately. He scrambled up into the vehicle, looking inside as he did so. Someone had left their M16 in the back seat, but he had no time to hand the weapon back to the man, instead opting to unsling and set his M14 right beside it. His pack followed... there would be time to get Morales his ammo later. Shutting the heavy armored door, he noticed that the Humvee was still idling, and that the Marines had cleared the way for him. Giving them a wave, he pushed the accelerator and the lumbering four-wheeler pulled out onto the main road.

Brian only had a few minutes to get them to safety, and he wondered how to do that. It sounded like they were pinned down by the insurgents, and he had to make sure to cover their retreat. Sighing, he picked up the radio. "Echo Bravo One to Echo Bravo Two... Morales, I'm coming in hot. The Colonel wants your asses out of the fire immediately. I've got a Humvee with a Ma Deuce on it. I'm going to lay down fire support. We've got three minutes until we catch a fireworks show, so you need to hurry!"

_"Sarge, we're damn glad to hear from you! We need that fire support, man... we're getting our asses handed to us! Nobody's been hit yet, but it's a matter of time. They finally calling in an airstrike to take these bastards out?"_ Morales sounded angry... but getting pinned down by a lot of gunfire would make anyone angry.

"Long story, man. Once you're safe I'm going to bug out, too. Get your butts back to the checkpoint. I'm going to collect on those beers you owe me, dude." Brian laughed as he rolled up near the walls his men were pinned down behind.

The appearance of an armored, well-armed vehicle attracted enough attention. Most of the insurgents started firing at it, the chatter of AKs intensifying as they poured their small arms fire into the Humvee. The vehicle was hit with a hail of lead, but the armor was designed to hold up; 7.62 and 5.45mm slugs bouncing and ricocheting off its armor plating. Brian hoped fervently that it would hold up to a Dragunov sniper round... and that the insurgents had fired off all their RPGs.

Sliding out of the bucket seat, Brian pushed himself partially up into the gunner's position. He didn't want to expose himself to enemy fire, so he blindly reached out and grasped the M2's firing handle. His thumbs fell upon the weapon's butterfly trigger and pressed down.

The M2 fired the powerful .50 BMG cartridge, a round originally designed to punch through the armor plating of early tanks. In use since the early 1920s, the weapon had seen various roles, including the main armament on fighter planes during WW2. It was even used as a sniper weapon during Vietnam, recording kills at well over a mile. In the right hands the M2 was an extremely lethal weapon, and it was once again demonstrated as Brian fired at the insurgent building.

The Marine didn't bother aiming and kept the trigger pegged down. The machine gun chugged death at five hundred rounds per minute, although this sort of firing wasn't recommended... the barrel heated up easily and had a tendency to become damaged if fired as rapidly as he was doing. The insurgents ducked out of the way as Brian continued to spray the building, simply trying to suppress their fire.

The tactic seemed to be working. Morales gathered up the rest of the squad, directing them through nearby alleyways and away from the fighting. The clock was ticking, and Brian had to make damn sure that his men were out of danger before pulling out. Taking a split second to slide onto the suspended sling that the gunner would normally sit on, he manned the weapon properly. This would increase his accuracy and hopefully pick off anyone that tried to take a potshot at his retreating comrades.

The Marine fired a few more bursts at the windows, not even stopping to check if he had hit anyone. A flash of movement at the roof of the building caught his eye, and he moved to deal with the threat.

Brian was too late by a split second. The insurgent on the roof was armed with a Dragunov sniper rifle... a firearm that was marginally more powerful than the M14 he normally carried. The man fired at him, its high-velocity round almost clearing a gap in the turret's light shielding. The off-balance bullet punched into Brian's helmet at just over a thousand feet per second... causing his head to slam back against the armor.

It felt like a mule had kicked him in the face... into a concrete wall. Even wearing a Kevlar helmet it hurt like Hell. Blood streamed down the side of his face, letting him know he had been nailed with a fragment. Yet, the Marine didn't have the ability to do anything about it. He fought just to maintain consciousness. The clock was ticking, and he had to get out before Skystrike hit.

The clatter and chaos of the insurgents' weapons returned, and Brian struggled to get a grip on the M2 once more. Haphazardly, the dazed soldier sprayed their positions once more. Some of them took cover, but others fought back harder. One of the Humvee's windows cracked under the assault, yet held.

The Marine's inner voice screamed at him to get back in the driver's seat and bug the hell out of there, but he simply slumped forward, the last of his mind fading away. Maybe the vehicle's armor would protect from the...

He didn't have the time to finish the thought. At an altitude of seventy miles directly above, a specially-designed satellite had entered the fray. Precision controls directed the weapon's firing solution. The amount of work that went into designing the weapon had been ludicrous, and from orbit a miscalculation by millimeters would spell disaster. Unfortunately, it did.

Nobody knew what an orbital ion cannon could do. Airstrike had only been test-fired once before, at an abandoned building at the Area 51 testing center. the bright white beam slammed into the building and left nothing except a shallow crater fifty yards in diameter. The weapon had been deemed a success, and the order was given to test it in combat conditions... an order that would come to end several lengthy military careers.

The first test-firing had actually jarred a gear loose in one of the servos meant for aiming the weapon. Fortunately, it held enough to keep the point of aim within one millimeter of its intended target. Had the gear actually fallen out, the ion cannon would have deviated wildly off target. Subsequent investigations noted that if that had happened the weapon would have fired at the southern tip of Italy before destroying itself in a nearly billion-dollar explosion.

Unfortunately, the margin of error that millimeter would make proved disastrous. The cannon's focal point didn't fall on the bank building, opting instead to center itself twenty feet from the hood of Brian's commandeered Humvee.

The Marine didn't even have time to realize the mistake he had made by not escaping sooner. A bright white glow surrounded him, accompanied by a soft hum. Both the glow and the hum intensified, becoming a crash of white noise and bright enough to make him feel like he was falling into the sun. There was an intense flash of heat, and then everything went black.


	3. 2: Brave New World

**Notes: Well, a first for me. I'm actually cranking out chapters at a decent pace now... actually they are pretty damn quick. This one was written off and on in the past 24 hours, including time taken for sleeping and working at the hell known as a retail establishment. I will start to take a different approach; writing smaller chapters but cranking them out more often. If I'm not distracted by real life issues, I might be able to do at least one a week, if not more.**

**As I mentioned previously, I will be introducing Brian and Krystal rather quickly. They won't meet in this one, but there's enough foreshadowing that it will be pretty obvious what will be going on in the next one. Also, I wanted her to at least kick a little ass before she gets her tail pulled out of the fire... read and see what I mean. However, as I mentioned in previous notes, her grief over losing her mother and her friends will be a very central theme... so will her learning to get over it. Part of the reason for me doing the rewrite was that I don't think I explored her character as deeply as I could; maybe this time I will do it justice. Now, to do some quick answers to reviews, as I usually have:**

**Ninja: thanks for the compliments. I've got a better idea where this one is headed, so it helps make a more linear story without a lot of running around. I can't fully take credit for the ion cannon idea... I had a rather cheesier way for Brian to enter the game universe until JyrFalcon345 did some brainstorming. He's a damn good beta reader, and I hope I'm doing the same. I will admit that I had the GDI Ion Cannon in mind for the Skystrike project. Let's just say I have my ideas how that project developed, but they wouldn't fit into the confines of this story. Perhaps a sequel will be in order when I finish. grin**

**Delta: You will definitely be seeing more really soon. Part of what I like about writing two separate story arcs is that I can work on two chapters at a time... the next one is already mostly complete. And, yes... I would have to say that Skystrike would prove a nasty thorn in the Venom Navy's side if they ever decided to screw with Earth... hehe.**

**Kaqswst: I'm glad to hear that I'm keeping your attention with these. That's part of the reason I'm considering shorter chapters; I get material out much more quickly as well as in more readable chunks. Not everyone has the time to digest a twelve-page, 12K+ word chunk of text... I'll admit that I'm one of those very quick readers that can do it with ease, but some people just don't have the time.**

**Everyone else: I don't want to throw pages and pages of text with authors' notes, but believe me, I read every one of your reviews, and I take every suggestion into consideration. Thirteen reviews in just two days, all of them positive, is pretty mind-boggling. I must be doing _something_ right. For the record, I will _not_ be deleting _Gambit_; I have worked far too hard and far too long to just strike it down like that. I do respect the authors on here that suddenly decide everything they've written sucks and get rid of all their 'published' material, but by and large it gets very annoying to the readers. And, while I do have a _lot_ of unseen material from that story, it would seem strange to make two stories with the same characters, similar plots, and entirely different situations. It's sad to kinda see it go, but this one will probably be better. Anyway, enough of my rambling. Enjoy this helping, and rest assured the next one's coming in only a couple of days.**

Chapter 2: Brave New World.

_**System Log Initiated.**_

_**Startup Date: 16 October, 3048 LDC. 02:13 Local Time(Cerinian, **_**Gallete **_**region.)**_

_**System Type: Galand Shipyards Shipboard OS, Ver. 3.467, build 1138. Device controls for **_**Vucsed**_**-class personal luxury shuttle loaded. Function checks complete. All systems nominal.**_

_**02:16: Request to enter Executive Emergency Protocol received. Passcode of XXXX-JG54 matches internal database. Request filed by Ship Administrator: Meloc Haleth. Medbay stasis pod activated.**_

_**02:23: Stasis pod filled. Retinal scan performed. Stasis pod occupant is User: Krystal Haleth. Account privileges upgraded to Ship Administrator access rights. Life sign check begun... life signs nominal. Stasis procedures for Vulpine anatomy loaded.**_

_**02:26: Stasis procedure underway. Subject life signs halted. Cryogenic agents introduced to stasis pod. Brainwave function nominal. Beginning silent takeoff procedure. Life support power at 0 percent. Reactor power at 2.7 percent. Power cells at 97.65 percent. Current estimated travel time to destination: 101d,12h,32m. Estimated arrival date: 30 January, 3049 LDC, 19:32 Cornerian Main Time.**_

_**02:34: Exiting atmosphere. Sensor arrays offline. Hull breach simulators activated. Internal oxygen reserves at 97 percent. Stasis cycle completed; subject stability is 93.24 percent. Survival rate calculated at 87.43 percent. Reactor power reduced to 0 percent.**_

_**02:35: Receiving passive pinging from several sources. Patterns match that of Venom standard sensor arrays. Active pinging encountered. Passive countermeasures deployed. Active pinging halted.**_

_**02:39: Passive pinging halted. Reactor power increased to 0.34 percent. Current thruster speed 340kph. Slipspace coordinates logged. Destination: Aquas. Position: Lower Planetary Orbit, Kramer Orbital Spacestation.**_

_**02:40: Impact logged. Impact registered as debris-oriented. Weapon strike not detected. Internal scan performed. Warning: Primary power cell compromised. Power cell array shut down. Now running on secondary energy reserves. Warning: Power reserves insufficient to reach destination. Unable to revive stasis pod occupant; Slipspace attempt will be made.**_

_**02:48: Slipspace generators online. Reactor power increased to 97.3 percent. Warning: active sensor scan detected. Scan source: Space Dynamics XK-134 **_**Shrike**_**-class assault craft. Unknown transponder reading, does not match known Cornerian, Venom, or independent IFF tags. Impact detected. Weapon strike logged. Damage report: Minor Duranium armor damage. Hull integrity 94.3 percent. Engaging Slipspace drives...**_

_**System Log: 19 December, 3048 LDC. 14:08 Local Time(Cerinian, **_**Gallette**_** region).**_

_**14:08: Warning: Power reserves critical. Secondary Power Cell at 3.07 percent. Engaging Primary Power Cell. Cell Status: Unstable. Reserves of 18.96 percent. Discharge rate 310 percent. Estimated time until total system shutdown: 0h,20m.**_

_**14:11: Slipspace generators disengaged. Normal thrusters engaged. Sensor arrays online. Protocol change logged. Primary objective: Stasis chamber occupant survival. Scanning for suitable docking/landing area.**_

_**14:19: Landing area found. Coordinates: Planet Sauria, Lylat System. Emergency transponder not activated; violation of Emergency Protocol will result. Warning: Landing on restricted planet violation of Cornerian Code of Conduct L-345; section G. Proceed? Emergency landing procedures initiated. Stasis revival process started.**_

_**14:21: Warning: power reserves draining. Stasis chamber process accelerated to compensate. Survival chance calculated at 64.17 percent. Biological recovery catalysts introduced to **__**subject. Faint vital signs detected. Impact recorded. Impact type: asteroid. Damage report: Hull integrity at 87.0 percent.**_

_**14:26: Multiple impacts recorded. Impact types: Asteroid. Evasive action taken. Hull integrity 62.10 percent. Power reserves at 12.30 percent. Stasis subject brainwave patterns established. Cryogenic agents removed. Oxygen flow established. Subject survival rate at 52.0 percent. Warning: stasis subject heart rate rapidly increasing. Survival rate dropping.**_

_**14:28: Atmosphere entry recorded. Hull integrity 48.53 percent. Searching for suitable landing location... found. Stasis subject approaching cardiac arrest. Survival rate at 18.34 percent. Warning: stasis subject life signs critical. Attempting to stabilize.**_

_**14:30: Stabilization of stasis subject achieved. Survival rate now at 57.3 percent. Altitude 3012 meters and descending. Entering landing pattern to shed excess speed.**_

_**14:34: Altitude 150 meters. Warning: power reserves 1.36 percent. Emergency crash landing advised. Stasis procedure aborted. Subject life signs: moderate. Short-term survival rate: 96.3 percent. Long-term survival rate: 43.12 percent. Seek immediate medical attention. Approaching safe crash landing vector... Warning: Power levels critical. System shutdown in...**_

_**End Log.**_

* * *

Consciousness came to Krystal slowly, as if she had to work for it by pushing past thick, cold barriers separating her from the waking world. Her thoughts were empty, only filled with a cold, dark void where nothing resided. She could not move or even feel anything... it was as if she were dead... which by most accounts she had been for the past two months.

Cryogenic stasis was a relatively new development in Lylat medical technology, only developed in the past fifteen years. As such, the procedures used weren't the most refined... there was always a small chance that suppressing ones' bodily functions to the point of ceasing would actually kill the patient. Waking up from stasis was an arduous ordeal which generally required trained medical personnel, as well as constant observation for the next couple of days to ensure that the patient fully recovered. Krystal had neither of these luxuries, as she was about to find out.

She felt cold... colder than she ever had been before. Her body started to rebel at the treatment it had received as she started to gain feeling in it. An intense sensation of pins-and-needles exploded over her entire body, overwhelming everything else she started to feel.

The sensation faded just a bit, but the pain continued. Krystal's throat hurt, badly... and breathing was a very difficult effort... she was gagging on something. That gained her attention, and she felt her eyes open... only to be greeted with the same dark void she found herself in.

The thought of being choked to death by something... something that was clamped around her muzzle and pushed down her throat was frightening. She tried to spit the offending object out, but failed miserably. Her paws fumbled around... she wasn't even really able to feel them too much. Whenever she touched herself it felt as if she was being grabbed by blocks of ice... they didn't even feel like her paws. Eventually they blundered into their face, bumping into a plastic mask placed around her muzzle. Concentrating whatever little strength she had left, she pulled it off, feeling slimy tubing eject itself from deep inside her body.

She continued to gag and fight against the offending tubes, her paws frantically working at pulling it out. Finally it came out, leaving her feeling like someone had shoved a fist down her throat and decided to mess around with her lungs and stomach while they were at it. She took in a few painful breaths, finally curling herself into a ball and trying to conserve whatever little body heat she could. The vixen couldn't see anything, and she was still scared at the thought that the stasis had blinded her.

Krystal started coughing, and then retching... throwing up a thin, foul-tasting fluid over the stasis chamber. With a shudder of revulsion as well as cold, she felt around... the chamber was open, and she pulled herself out of it.

The floor, oddly enough, was much warmer than the interior of the stasis chamber. She took a first shaky step forward. No sight came to her eyes, even though she could tell her eyes were open. Frantically, she looked around... then spotting a dim blue glow off to her left.

With a start she stumbled over to it... or tried to. Her foot snagged something and she fell, tumbling to the ground in a bruised flurry of slime-soaked blue fur... not that she or anyone else could have seen it. The blue glow resumed, assuring the Cerinian that she had not been blinded. Her paw reached out for the glow, wrapping it around a familiar object... the collapsed form of her new staff.

As if the staff's power prompted it, memories surged into her mind, filling the dark void left by coldsleep. She had done it... Krystal was now a Guardian of Cerinia. Yet, at what cost? Her family was likely dead, and so were her friends. She forced her tears back as she grasped her staff. Maloc said he would meet her on Aquas. Was she there? Why was her ship dark? Why wasn't anyone here to help her out of this dank, cold place?

Shaking wildly from her ordeal, she extended her staff and used it to pull herself up. It gave off a limited amount of light which her eyes were slowly getting adjusted to. The outline of a table was in front of her, but all the contents of the room looked to be in disarray, thrown this way and that. Had the ship crashed somewhere? The vixen stooped down to grab a blanket, which she hastily wrapped around herself before venturing out of the room. Walking was slow and painful, and even taking a few steps into the hall she nearly fell twice. As she approached the stairs to the main deck, another feeling exploded throughout her body.

Hunger. Deep and absolute; she felt as if she had been starved for weeks... and that was most likely the case. The hunger gnawed at her body, and her stomach felt like a pit. Her body was starting to recover in fits and starts, and she wasn't quite ready for it. With a groan she slowly ascended the stairs, hoping that there would be some light source other than her staff up on the main deck.

Her feet, still encased in the sandals that were a part of her ceremonial armor, found the thickly-cushioned carpet of the upper deck. The hope for some light had not gone completely unfulfilled, although there was precious little of it. All of the illumination came from the picturesque viewport in the common living area. Compared to the inky darkness it meant she could see, and she could figure out where in the Void she actually was.

The scene outside was tranquil and serene... the ship actually _had_ crashed, and it was in some sort of forest. It was night, and that explained the lack of light. Had the ship run out of power? Krystal's questions went unanswered. She needed food, and she needed it _now._

The Cerinian stumbled for the kitchen, helped by the moonlight outside as well as her staff. Upon reaching it, she realized that it was empty. Her parents made sure to empty the ship whenever it wasn't being used, but there had to be _something_ inside it. Desperately, she fumbled amongst the darkened room, throwing open drawers and pulling cabinet doors practically off their hinges, all the while using the minute light radiated by her staff to locate something.

All she found was a paper sack, containing three stale sweetrolls. They were as hard as rocks, but her hunger had her ignore that. Krystal spent several minutes gnawing at the ruined food, even pausing to lick crumbs from her fur as she went... not even noticing the taste of the thick, bitter residue that she had been soaked in. After being stuffed away in that damned contraption even finding that little sustenance was like a gift from Melos.

The worst of the hunger pangs had subsided, but they would be back, and soon. She needed to find something else, and that meant venturing outside. With a sigh she pushed herself back up and staggered her way out of the kitchen.

Eating, even what small amount she did, made her feel at least a bit better. Her throat felt like it had been scraped raw, and she still felt as if she were freezing solid. In her incredibly weakened state, she wasn't sure she could fend off a hostile animal, let alone another sentient being with malicious intent. Still, she had to try. Wherever she was, she needed to survive. Meloc promised her that he would come back.

Krystal may have been exhausted and weakened, but her mind coerced her rebelling body back into line... forcing her legs to move forward, ignoring the feeling of awakening limbs. The vixen needed to get out of the deathtrap of a ship she was now in. She needed to find food, water, and shelter... all in that order. She was a Guardian now... it was time to live up to the name.

_'The hardships you will face will be numerous, child.'_ The voice of her mentor, Narat, echoed in her mind. _'You will be pushed to your breaking point, and then beyond. If you survive them, you will come out stronger, better... a true master of your fate.'_ Narat might have been right, but even his insight into her future didn't reveal the destruction of her family... the attack on their homeworld.

Krystal tried out her voice for the first time... it came out in a choked rasp. "I need to get out of here." Her words steeled her resolve, and she stumbled her way out of the living area with the help of her staff. The rear airlock was open, and she used this to escape the ship, and emerge into the warm night air.

The comfortable temperature was welcome, compared to the freezing confines of the shuttle. She vaguely remembered Maloc telling her that it had been running with no life support; meaning that it had been through the hostile environment of outer space for... however long she had been in it.

That alone caused Krystal to sigh, as she looked down the eight-foot drop to the ground... and freedom. The exit ramp had failed to extend, and the _Vucsed_ was obviously out of power. She would have to jump, which might hurt her far worse than she bargained for. Still, it was either that or freeze and starve to death inside the ship. She made her choice and simply jumped.

The impact came quickly, and knocked the wind out of her. Her stressed, weakened body finally betrayed her, and as she lay there gasping, the not so unwelcome black veil of unconsciousness fell over her senses.

* * *

Krystal awoke with a start... the mild agony of awakening limbs had ceased. She could move her arms, legs... even her tail without pain. It was still dark outside, but she felt much warmer... almost normal. In the moonlight, she could see the fluid she had been covered with had mostly dried, matting much of her fur and coating it with the topsoil she had lain on. A sigh crossed her lips... she didn't feel so horrible, but she probably looked like she had crawled out of a cesspit.

Getting up was easier than before, but slightly atrophied muscles still needed the help of her staff to prop her up. Her hunger had returned... how long had she been out, anyway? With a sigh she approached a nearby tree, leaning against it for support. She needed to think.

However, while looking up she spotted several heavy pods embedded in the tree. Maybe those were fruit? This caused the vixen to arch an eyebrow, wondering how to get them down. Using the tree for balance, she swung at the side of the trunk with all the strength she could muster... which winded her. The tree vibrated a bit, and one of the pods crashed to the ground, narrowly missing her.

The pod looked like a large nut, which meant it had to be some sort of food. Krystal smiled for the first time she could remember, her tail swaying as she did so. The staff was brought down with another swat, and the nut was split open. Triumphantly, the Cerinian sat down to her first real meal in over two months.

The fruit had a very sweet taste to it, and it was full of pulp. Krystal worked on it feverishly, scooping whatever she could out with her paws while gorging on her new treasure. It was far more filling than the sweetrolls she had earlier, and finally she felt at least somewhat sated. The juices even soothed her throat, almost as if the fruit had some sort of healing properties.

The Cerinian could feel her strength starting to return, and she sat back against the tree. Her emerald eyes fell upon the battered profile of her ship, faintly visible in the moonlight that shone through the trees. She then turned to the way it came... witnessing the path of destruction it had woven through virgin, alien forest. The ship cut a swath nearly sixty yards wide for a distance of, she reckoned, nearly half a mile. It was a miracle that the shuttle had remained intact... and she was even luckier to have survived it.

Krystal felt lucky to have survived everything that had happened... although a few questions burned into her mind. Why was she so important? The blaster-wielding Lylatians had been looking for _her_, not any of the other Adepts in her city. She was the only Channeler in her home region... an extremely rare Aspect to be gifted, but why would technologically advanced Lylat natives need to commune with spirits?

A Channeler's abilities were mainly used with communing with the ancient Keeper spirits that resided within the Temples of Light. The entities could only communicate via a Channeler, and the first assignment for her Guardian duties was to be the personal medium for one of them. It was considered a great honor amongst Cerinians, but the more she thought about it the more she had her second thoughts... being possessed at will by an ancient spirit wasn't something she wanted to endure for long.

The vixen sighed, burying her head in her paws. The memories and wounds were so fresh, It had possibly been weeks since her narrow escape from her homeworld, but in her mind's eye it had been mere hours. She couldn't stop the tears, so she simply let them flow... grieving for the losses she went through... and the inescapable loneliness she felt.

Krystal wasn't sure how long she had sat there, sobbing until there were no more tears to shed... alone and stranded on an alien world with little chance of being discovered. However, the sound of footsteps startled her from her melancholy reflection. The vixen berated herself for her inattentiveness; if someone had been coming her abilities would have picked up on them, if only she had been using them. She was a Guardian, but Krystal had quite a lot to learn about using her Aspects to the fullest.

She looked up to see seven hulking creatures striding towards her. They were some sort of armored reptiles... most of them armed with clubs or some sort of axes, but two that lingered to the rear of the group carried a strange sort of long blaster. She stood up, tired and cold but with a decent measure of her strength regained. Perhaps these were friendly natives, but a quick scan of their minds proved to her that their intentions were far less than noble.

The lead reptile spoke, surprisingly enough in a dialect similar enough to Cerinian that she could understand most of it through its broken grammar. "Ugly furred thing caused wreck. Bring it to Boss. Boss will take care of it." It spoke with a sneer, and Krystal slid into a defensive stance, her staff extended to its full length and ready to strike.

Grief turned to anger in a split second... she had lost her friends. She had lost her parents. In that instant, she swore that she would never lose anyone important to her again... including herself. The Cerinian had the means to ensure it did not happen, and since that was threatened... "By the Cerinian Grand Council, I command you to leave this area." Her voice was still hoarse, but her growl made the lead reptile stop in its tracks. "If you do not, I will be forced to defend myself... and you do _not_ want that to happen."

The Sharpclaw that stood in front of her regarded his options. The ugly furry thing could speak. It had threatened him, his troop, and was trespassing on lands claimed by his Boss, the great General Scales. It was outnumbered, and only had a stick. He did the only thing he could do considering the circumstances... he charged.

Holding his axe out to strike, he took a swing at the furred one. His weapon cleaved through the air, neither hitting flesh nor weapon. The thing's stick slammed down on his shoulder, sending him to the dirt with only a feeble swing of his axe as protest.

The others charged _en masse_. Krystal was as ready as she could be considering four of them started to attack her at once. The ones with the strange blasters held back... they couldn't shoot her with their comrades so close by... and they had a free fight to watch. Normally this would not be a problem; her skills as a telepath gave her a very decisive edge in combat... knowing what her opponent was about to do before they even had a chance to follow through, she fought like an expert. Even the group of trained, experienced Sharpclaw couldn't break through her defenses, and all of them received at least one powerful blow from her weapon.

However, the fact that the Cerinian was in a stasis pod an hour previous, fighting for her life, showed. Her strength was not fully regained, and the extra energy that the fruit had given her soon faded away in the rigors of close combat. Knowing how an enemy was about to strike only gave her advance warning of a brutal attack, and she received a few bumps and slashes of her own.

Now bleeding from two or three mild wounds and dealing with a headache by a nearly missed blow that would have normally laid her head open, she quickly tired. After a few desperate last-ditch swings, she tried to back up... yet stumbled into something.

That 'something' had been the Sharpclaw she laid out a few minutes ago... he was back up and she could sense that he was _very_ angry. Being bested in combat by an ugly furred alien had caused him a great deal of embarrassment, and having been taken down in a single hit would make him lose face amongst his squad buddies. He wasted no time, and a heavy fist collided with the back of her head.

Krystal grunted as her senses went reeling, although the last thing her abilities picked up before they faded away was the appearance of another sentient being. All she could tell was that it didn't have the same thought patterns as the reptiles.

The last thing she saw was lights moving in behind the reptiles, before she was brutally torn from the waking world once again... in a flurry of vengeful fists and armored boots.


	4. 3: Baptism by Fire

**Notes: Yep, another finished one. I'm on fire, I think... hehe. More to come later, but it might take a little more time. Yes, they meet in this chapter, so hold yer horses and take a look. Now, to review responses.**

**Shinedown: that was what I was hoping to convey. Being brought out of what is essentially a controlled state of death doesn't sound like it would be pleasant at all. I don't want to 'gimp' Krystal either, but I want to make it apparent that what she went through has taken a huge toll on her body.**

**Kagswst and Ninja: I wanted to try something different, so I did the log scene. It was actually very fun to write, but I promise I won't overuse it. It allowed me to skip a scene that could have taken a chapter or two to write, as well as shed some light on plot points I don't want to bring to play just yet. -grin-**

* * *

Chapter 3: Baptism by Fire.

Consciousness came back to Brian Lancing in stages. At first he felt nothing, but after time passed he became aware of varying levels of discomfort. His head felt like Satan had been using it as a football, but he couldn't even muster up enough strength to even open his eyes. His back started hurting, and he felt like he had been pushed in an awkward position. The feeling was strange, like he was conscious but not in control of his body.

What felt like hours had passed before he was able to move. His fingers flexed, which shot fire up and down his arm. The Marine uttered an involuntary groan at the pain, which caused the same 'fire' to spread through his neck and chest. He tried to keep moving, and by the time he opened his eyes his whole body was flaring with agony.

His first sight was that of the interior of the Humvee... apparently he had fallen down through the gunner's turret and got caught up in the sling-styled seat he had been on. It was dark outside, but that was all he could really tell through the pain. It took several minutes of his abused body bitching at him in order for it to quit, the aching fading... other than his massive headache.

After Brian pulled himself out of the tangled sling-seat, he slid into the passenger's chair. The interior was as dark as what went on outside, but at least it was much cooler than Iraq had a right to be. The scent of rain even drifted to his nose, and he took a big breath of cool, slightly muggy air.

Where was he? From the scents and the temperature, this sure as Hell wasn't Iraq. Suddenly, the past few moments of his conscious life played through his mind. He was providing covering fire for his squad, and he was about to bug out when...

Brian reached up to his helmet, feeling the long, narrow furrow through one side of it. The helmet explained his headache, at least. With a sigh he pulled it off, reaching up to switch the vehicle's interior lights on.

It took a moment of digging through his pack to find a small shaving mirror. Using that, he glanced to the left side of his face... it was covered in dried blood. Upon a closer inspection, he had four shards of copper embedded in the side of his face and scalp... bullet fragments. With a sigh he grabbed a medical kit and a canteen... tending to the wounds on the side of his face as well as cleaning the remains of crusty dried blood... he hated to admit it, but at that point he looked like a _Braveheart_ casting reject.

Looking a hell of a lot better than before, Brian put the pack away and decided to check out what the Humvee actually had to offer. The vehicle wasn't Col. Hammond's personal transport, and it looked like he had commandeered the vehicle from other Marines. It was done up in an impromptu desert patrol configuration; he could see the big 55-gallon fuel drum bolted to the rear of the cargo area... just in case they needed extra range. That might come in very handy. Pushing his way to the cargo area, he started rooting through the personal effects he found. Brian felt a bit guilty for doing this, but he wasn't sure what was going on and anything he could secure for his own survival would be needed.

The vehicle was obviously about to go out on a patrol, because he actually found it very well stocked. Two ammunition tins full of 5.56mm rifle rounds... Brian thanked God that one of the other Marines actually left their M16 in the cab. There were two-thousand rounds present... far more than enough. There was also another two hundred-round belt for the Ma Deuce sitting on top of the Humvee... just in case he needed the firepower it provided. Searching deeper amongst the effects, he also found an M9 Beretta handgun. He would normally scoff at the 9x19mm pistol, preferring the greater power and reliability of his .45, but anything that shot bullets meant he could survive longer. He scrounged up another two-hundred rounds for it. Even if he was deep inside insurgent territory, he might have enough firepower to get his way out... and hadn't even factored in his M14 or .45.

Food and water were his second priority. A case of MREs was stashed next to the ammunition, and one of the soldiers had left a full Camelbak hydration bladder in there, as well. Two extra sets of fatigues and some assorted camping gear rounded out the set. His pack also held a few more MREs as well as a couple of canteens... if he were a hardcore survivalist, he would have been in heaven right then. With some more digging he found a damn twelve-pack of Heineken tucked behind some blankets. That was completely against half the rules in the UCMJ, but who wouldn't be thrilled at the presence of beer? Still, something itched at the back of his mind.

The whole situation didn't make any damn sense. If his fellow Marines had found him, he would be in a field hospital right now. If he had been picked up by insurgents, he would have been a badly mutilated corpse sitting on some roadside. Either way, he wouldn't have been sitting inside a fully stocked Humvee. "Where the hell are you, Brian?" Another thought crossed his mind right then, and he cursed his shortsightedness. The command console in the Humvee was right there, and he switched it on.

The console was supposed to keep track of nearby vehicles as well as give the crew GPS coordinates. Wherever the hell he was on God's green earth, he would figure it out. The loading splash screen took up the screen's real estate, and then the tactical positioning came up... blank. _"GPS satellite signal not found. Please check antenna."_ Brian sighed and found the antenna lead, which looked a lot like the one for an in-car satellite radio. It was attached and intact... why would there be no signal?

He reached over and flipped the Humvee's headlights on... illuminating what was in front of him. There were droplets of rain on the windshield, and the panel of armored glass on the right was cracked by several bullet impacts... but what lay beyond the damage and raindrops was what caused his jaw to drop.

The Humvee was sitting smack dab in the middle of a forest. Thickly-trunked trees were all around, the ground was soaked with a recent rain, and the air was muggy. It looked just like the national forest just outside his hometown of Billings, Montana. There was no desert sand, no centuries-old stucco buildings, insurgents, or Marines around. For all he knew it was just him. One man against the world, pretty much.

A voice popped into his head... he had been thinking about the weapon he had been hit with before popping up... wherever he was. Maybe it didn't vaporize its targets... maybe it was some sort of fucked up time machine? That alone caused him to shudder. If they fired that thing a few more times, he would be sharing this forest with a shitload of really pissed-off Islamic militants. That was one scenario he didn't want to play out in his mind.

Brian recapped the situation for himself. He was out of contact with any Marine he could think of, and he was stranded in some sort of forest. He had a fully stocked Humvee, and while he was a little short on water(and beer, now that he thought about it), he had a damn arsenal as well as at least two weeks' worth of food. He felt like damn Robinson Crusoe, only with enough guns to take over a banana republic. Maybe he actually _was_ lost in time.

Somehow, that was a settling feeling. No insurgents. No fellow Marines. Nobody to bother him... just exploration. Maybe that was how the early pioneers felt, finally escaping the bullshit their societies peddled as important just to be able to strike out on their own. Brian knew his resources were finite. The Humvee would run out of gas, then electrical power. His food would get used up. After enough hunting he would run out of ammunition. He wasn't much of an outdoorsman, but by God he would learn.

He slid behind the driver's seat and pushed the starter button for the engine. It cranked over almost immediately, the familiar diesel rumble filling the cabin. The truck had about half a tank of fuel left, and he would see how far that would get him.

He scanned the Humvee's controls. One of the previous occupants had rigged up a sound system using standard car audio components... converting from a standard passenger car's 12-volt system to the Humvee's 24-volt system. It was against regulation, but considering that Hammond wasn't a hardass with his troops... as long as they got the job done he didn't give too much of a damn over minor breaches in code. Still, that meant he'd have music... at least for a while. With a grin he pulled his worn yet still working MP3 player out of a pocket on his vest and plugged it into the stereo. After some fiddling he got some of his favorite tunes blaring over the speakers bolted to the dash. It wasn't a great system by any means, but it would serve to keep him awake and stave off boredom.

Brian put the Humvee into gear and gently guided it through the trees. He was looking for some sort of a natural wash or trail... somewhere he could pull the vehicle onto something resembling a road.

A few minutes after he started, a harsh, screaming whine came from overhead... it sounded like a damn jet just overhead. Startled, he pushed himself up into the gunner's turret, keeping a hand on the still-primed M2 just in case. He wasn't prepared for what he saw, not in the slightest.

What looked to be a beefier-looking, squat version of the Space Shuttle roared overhead, arcing toward the ground an impossible speed. Small fires blazed all over its superstructure... that and its running lights were the only reasons he even saw the damn thing. As the craft passed him its running lights winked out, and the shuttle continued to fade out of sight. Brian heard the distant crackling snap of tree trunks breaking apart as the craft crash-landed. All he could tell was that it had come to rest off to his right, a considerable distance away. Even consulting a compass was no good; it was going haywire.

"Well... I guess it is time to call in the Marines, then." Brian grumbled. His sense of duty kicked in... he needed to investigate. If someone else ended up hurt here, he needed to make sure they were okay. Considering that he had emergency supplies and weaponry, he guess he would just about be the surest bet of survival for the occupants... assuming they were not hostile. He slid back into the driver's seat, making sure he set the M16 inside the passenger's footwell. If they were in fact hostile... he wasn't going to be taking any chances.

* * *

Getting through the forest was pretty hard work, and Brian figured that he could have made quicker time to the downed craft by walking. Trees blocked the way half the time, and he would have to circle around to find a decent path through them. He wasn't too careful with the Humvee, either... its armor plating would withstand far more than a low-speed impact with a tree.

Eventually the forest thinned out to a clearing, and he could make up for a little lost time. While crossing the grass-covered field, he spotted what looked like a trail leading in the general direction of where he saw the 'plane' crash. The Marine scratched the unwounded side of his head with a Nomex glove. It looked to be a maintained trail, and was a little wider than the Humvee he was driving. This meant that _someone_ was out there.

The whole operation seemed FUBAR. The Space Shuttle-like craft that crashed and the fact there was a trail out here led to the assumption that he was on Earth... somewhere. But, he hadn't heard jack shit over the radio, and the GPS sats were down? The time travel scenario was playing heavily inside his head, and he did _not_ like where it was taking him.

With a sigh, Brian turned down the path and gunned the engine... the Humvee's 6.9-liter diesel V8 happily responding to the increased speed. Even weighed down with armor, weapons and fuel, the vehicle could do seventy... but that wouldn't be a safe thing to do along a gravel road at night.

Forty was a much more reasonable speed, and he stuck with it. The headlights illuminated his way, and the staccato guitar riffs of Alice in Chains blared through the sound system... one of his favorite bands. The freedom, the 'open road,' and the tunes brought back memories. When he was thirteen, his older brother had managed to beg their uncle to take his car out for the weekend... and they subsequently went out to Seattle for a concert. "Those were the days..." Brian mused, as he roared down the road.

A sight ahead caused him to stomp on the brakes, causing the 4WD to stop in a fantastic display of flying gravel. The 'road' had been practically demolished for a nearly hundred yard stretch. Looking off into the forest, it was apparent that something _huge_ had plowed through the forest, cutting off the path he was on before moving on. That _had_ to be the downed Shuttle-looking aircraft. Off to the right, a hulking dark shape visible through the trees confirmed it.

Brian shut off the Humvee's lights, not wanting to attract any undue attention. It was really damn dark out, but he had a cure for that. Taking a few moments to dig through his pack, he extracted his set of nightvision goggles. After affixing the harness around his head, he switched them on, lighting the world up in a green glow.

With that done, he slowly directed the Humvee off the road as his right hand grabbed the M16 and placed it on his lap... ready for action if he needed it. Two extra magazines were already tucked into a map pocket. He snagged one of them, replacing an M14 mag from his vest. After guiding the military vehicle into the forest, he decided to get a better look at what had crashed there.

The 'aircraft' was pretty damn big... about the size of a damn 747 but a hell of a lot more bulky. If the outside was any indication, it could have held a couple of good-sized apartments inside it. The whole thing screamed 'spaceship' to him, but... yeah right. There was no way his day was going to get any weirder, even if he was actually looking at an alien _spaceship_.

With one hand on the assault rifle and the other on the wheel, he pulled out into the space the wrecked craft had cleared. He couldn't shake that thought out of his mind, and he would remain cautious. A flurry of movement caught his attention, and he squinted through the neon green landscape to find that someone was definitely out there.

Even driving a big armored vehicle, none of the figures rushed out to greet or open fire on him. As he drew closer, the figures began to take more definition. After staring for a minute, Brian realized he was watching a fight... and its participants could have come out of an '80s cartoon show.

The Marine counted seven lizard-men, about his height but looking like even the smallest outweighed him by at least fifty pounds. Five of them were wielding axes and clubs... two watching the skirmish had what looked to be strange-looking muskets. His hand tightened around the M16's pistol grip when he saw that. One of the lizards was flat on the ground, and he cast his attention to who the others were fighting.

It was a fox. A walking fox; a female at that, judging by the loincloth and bikini top she wore. This was too God-damn bizarre... a cartoon fox was fending off several ugly lizard-men with some sort of polearm. "What in fuck's sake is going on here?" he asked himself. "I'm damn sure I didn't drink any of that beer." With a sigh he decided to wait for Bozo the Clown to give him a damn birthday cake to top it all off.

The foxette deflected some nasty blows with that stick of hers... he could see that one end of it was glowing, which was pretty damn strange. She was obviously pretty damn skilled with the weapon, but even if what Brian was seeing _wasn't_ an LSD-made illusion... popping a few rounds into the attacking lizards wouldn't be a good idea if they turned out to be the good guys. He would wait and see what happened. He wasn't an expert at judging how a fight was going, but she was being pushed into a more defensive course of action.

The fox dodged a few nasty blows but opened herself for minor attacks... the lizards looked like they were whittling her down. Even Brian could tell by a couple of clumsy swings that she lost stamina. The Marine spotted the lizard that was on the ground stand up, moving behind her... and with a mighty punch laid _her_ flat.

That was that, then. If they were in any semblance the good guys, they would be moving to arrest her. They kicked her weapon away, and the group moved in on the neutralized combatant. Brian's teeth gritted as the five started to kick and punch at the helpless fox, and they were _not_ holding anything back, either.

The Marine sighed... it was time for him to step in. Taking off the nightvision device, he threw on the Humvee's lights. That would serve to distract them from the fox, but it would draw their attention to him. The ploy worked... somewhat. Two of the lizards kept whaling on their former adversary, but the other three turned and looked at the Humvee. The ones with muskets turned, as well... Brian was already formulating a tactical plan. He would have to be quick, and he would have to be accurate. Marine training would be saving this day.

Brian burst out of the Humvee, his hands instantly throwing the M16 to his shoulder. Any doubt in his mind as to whether these lizards were the good guys were erased; the two with muskets turned and fired at him, the dull booms they created echoing off the side of the downed ship.

One of the rounds missed and hit the Humvee, impacting the armor with a hollow _bong_. The other... Brian felt as if he were punched in the gut. Whatever it fired had hit them, but his expensive body armor held. "Nice try, assholes. Get a load of this!" Brian yelled as he sighted in on the nearest lizard... who was frantically trying to reload.

The M16 cracked its reply into the air, once and then twice. The rifle kissed rather than kicked into his shoulder, and the lizard crumpled to the ground. The Marine swung around, firing another double-tap into the other firearm-toting one. It was pretty damn apparent who had the advantage of firepower and armor. Brian flicked the selector switch to burst fire, and turned the weapon on the three lizards that were trying to bum-rush him.

The lizards realized their mistake just a little too late. Brian fell to one knee and the rifle roared, three 5.56mm rounds blasting through the lead one before it could turn tail and run. The one to its left received the same treatment, and it too fell to the ground as a bleeding mass of flesh.

The third lizard broke its charge and ran off into the trees. There was no sense in wasting any more ammunition, so he let it go. However, his steel eyes fell upon the two remaining lizards, and his jaw dropped... an incredulous look firmly plastered upon his face. The bastards had ignored the lights, ignored their two buddies shooting at him... and ignored him blasting half of their squad away with a fucking _automatic weapon_. The lizard-men were, in fact, still kicking the limp body of the foxette... who in a strange twist of fate was sporting blue fur instead of red.

Something inside the Marine broke. Something about the bastards not running for the hills or even noticing the gunfight happening mere yards away pissed him off. Seeing them continue to beat someone who had been taken down incensed him further. Setting the M16 on safe and slinging it across his back, he decided to make it a more... personal matter.

The well-armed Marine reached for his Ka-Bar combat knife, withdrawing it and balancing the familiar weight of the blade in the palm of his hand. The two lizards were so intent on mauling their quarry that they didn't even notice the soldier until he was on them. A simple kick delivered to one's back sent it sprawling in the dirt. The other actually looked startled, beady black eyes regarding the strange creature.

"Oh, I'm sorry... did I break your concentration?" Brian spat, an evil grin appearing on his face. "Didn't your daddies ever teach you some manners? Ain't polite to hit a girl, and it sure ain't polite to kick someone when they're down." With that he responded in kind, the prostrate lizard receiving a brutal strike to the ribs with a steel-toed combat boot. It gave the reptilian equivalent of a groan, but was the target of another kick.

The standing lizard hesitated for a moment but then struck, swiping at Brian with its club. The more agile Marine ducked the blow and went in with brutal precision... the Corps had taught him more than a thing or two about hand-to-hand techniques... as well as how exactly to use the blade in his hand.

As the lizard recovered from its swing, Brian struck... the Ka-Bar's edge glinting in the moonlight as he made a vicious swipe for its throat. To its credit the lizard managed to dodge, although it received a jagged gash across its shoulder for its trouble. Marine... three points. Lizard-men... zip.

The reptile swung again, but the pissed-off human held up the knife to block... the blade sunk into the club with a hollow _thunk_. They stood in a deadlock, the lizard-man trying to overpower the Marine. While Brian didn't have as much raw strength as his opponent, he had the advantage of leverage... which kept the fight even.

A rustling sound right next to Brian's feet almost distracted him, but he had no time to turn around and check. He fervently hoped that the other lizard-man hadn't gotten up... but his luck had run out. A pained voice called out from next to him... he didn't have time to realize it came from the fox, and she was speaking in a very close approximation of a British accent... and in English. "B...behind..."

Brian dared to look back to see the other lizard rushing in with an axe. A wave of fear hit him. His right hand and arm were still locked in combat, and he couldn't get at his Colt with his left... he was fucked. All it would have taken was to snatch his pistol up, flick off the safety and shoot the incoming bastard...

He felt something clutch at his leg; grabbing at the tac holster where the pistol sat. He took a quick glance down to see the battered vixen removing his old .45 from its hiding place. With wide eyes he watched her unsafe the weapon with her thumb. There was no time... the lizard had begun his swing, but two loud reports thundered into the air. The Colt had been fired in anger for the first time since the second World War, and those shots had been fired by an alien fox.

The lizard-man jerked backwards, the momentum of its swing making the axe fly out of its nerveless grip. It crumpled to the ground, and Brian could concentrate on the remaining foe. Amazingly, he hadn't budged an inch, but the fact that his partner had been shot made him lose much of his nerve. The Marine hoped that his unexpected vulpine ally didn't try to grease the bastard... he didn't feel like getting shot for a _third_ time today. Amazingly she held her fire, although he could catch the pistol's muzzle track their fight out of the corner of his eye.

Brian tried a new tactic, delivering a kick to the lizard's chest. The Ka-Bar worked itself free of the club, and he was free to press the attack. The lizard-man, however, had other ideas. Wisely, it dropped the club as it got up and ran. It had enough of actually being the one getting shot at.

The Marine slid the knife back into its sheath. Now, he had an armed fox to deal with, and while she iced the one that would have given him a literal splitting headache, he wasn't totally convinced she was going to treat him with kid gloves. He thought about going for the M16, but that would lead to him getting shot.

Now that he had the chance to look at her more closely, he could tell she had been through Hell, and a lot more of it than he had. Her cerulean fur was matted all over and infused with dirt, giving her the look of an alley cat that had been through more than a few tussles. Blood dripped from two decent slashes on her side as well as one more on her leg, and she appeared to be shaking. Still, he could see a mixture of fear and determination in her emerald eyes, and the willingness to defend herself was announced by pointing his M1911 at his face.

"Hold it... I'm not going to hurt you." Brian held his hands up in a disarming gesture. _'Good luck trying to explain that, man. You're the one that just blasted through half of those assholes. She won't be speaking English, but God knows how she managed to figure your gun out.'_ His internal monologue had a point. How the Hell did she know how to work the safety on his pistol? But... his adrenaline-fogged senses tried to figure things out. Actually, she _had_ spoken to him in English. What the Hell?

Amazingly she lowered the pistol, keeping it in her paws as she regarded him. The shaking was getting even more pronounced, and he could tell she was coming off of a major adrenaline high. The vixen had been fighting several opponents in an obviously weakened state, got the snot beaten out of her, and managed to regain consciousness enough to put two slugs into one of them. Once she crashed, it would be _hard_.

A pained whimper came from her as she tried to force herself up. She opened her mouth to say something, but the crash had already happened. The fox crumpled to the ground, once again unconscious.

Without a word Brian snatched his pistol back, safing it before placing it back in its holster. He wasn't going to take any chances, especially not with this strange alien. True, she had saved his life... but he had his reasons why he didn't trust most anyone. The thought of leaving her there and going upon his merry way had crossed his mind, but... he couldn't do it. In a word, it wouldn't have been right.

He shook his head, walking over and picking up her weapon. She would need it, because if she was riding along with him he wasn't going to be giving her a gun. As he wrapped his hand around it the staff started to tingle in his palm... not unpleasantly. He left the vixen where she lay for the moment being, and went over to the Humvee.

The weapons he had collected were then stuffed in the passenger's seat.. next to him. The M16 and M14 were stuffed in the footwell, along with the staff. As an afterthought, he slipped the M9's holster on his belt. Brian had no intentions on using the handgun, but he was going to keep his hands on it. The next task he undertook was converting the back seat of the Humvee into a semi-suitable bed... accomplished with a couple of sleeping bags and all the spare blankets he had.

After everything was at least somewhat secured, he went back for the vixen. With a grunt he lifted her.. surprised at how light she was. The state she was really in became much more apparent; her fur was caked with dirt, and her clothing was stained in several spots. On top of that, she carried he strong scent of some really nasty chemicals; her fur was actually slick with slime in several spots. "Christ, you got worked over... didn't you?" Sighing, he carried her over to the Humvee.

"What a fucked up situation I find myself in." Brian grumbled as he lifted the comatose fox into the vehicle. As he struggled with her unconscious body, he noticed that she was cold... a hell of a lot colder than he expected someone covered with fur to be. To be cautious, he wrapped her up in those blankets. If she was suffering from hypothermia, she would need to retain all the body heat she could. It would have been better if he was willing to huddle next to her in order to transfer his own body heat to her... but he wasn't. Besides, the Humvee had a heater.

Shutting the passenger door, Brian also got into the vehicle. Starting it up once more, he took off down that road... hoping to get enough distance between the lizards they had wiped the floor with. They would have buddies, and they wouldn't be happy.


	5. 4: Downtime

**Notes: Well, Chapter Four is here. Not really any action to speak of, just mostly character interaction. I really need to work on dialogue, so this gives me a chance to do so. Don't worry... this will be moving into the SFA storyline soon enough, within the next couple of chapters. There will be minor modifications of course, but not a whole lot. As promised, I'll start putting these out a little quicker. The ending on this one seems a bit rushed even for my standards, but I've got ideas I want to implement in the next one. As before, R+R, guys.**

Chapter 4: Downtime.

For the first time in a long while, Krystal blearily opened her eyes, blinking away the blurriness of actual, genuine sleep. The vixen was actually warm; she could feel blankets all around her. Wherever she had been sleeping wasn't the most comfortable place she had slept on, but after that stasis chamber she would have been satisfied with a dirt floor.

The vixen scrunched her eyes as she tried to get her bearings. She was in some sort of vehicle, although by the sensations she felt it had been stopped. There wasn't anyone else in the cabin, which gave her time to look around without being spotted.

Scattered memories of last night flashed in her mind, along with more than a few questions. That strange being had saved her life, and she had saved his in return. That particular memory stood out, and it was something she was a little ashamed of. Krystal had used her abilities to go through the man's mind... while he was thinking about how to use his blaster pistol, she had went ahead and shot the attacking reptile with it. Reading the mind of a friend or ally without their express permission was heavily frowned upon on Cerinia.

However... what exactly _was_ he? She knew of most of the Lylatian species, and he didn't look like any of them. Also, why had he risked his life to save her? For all she knew, it wasn't his job... even though the assistance was welcome. Her mind starting to mull over questions, she decided to pull the blankets off her form and take a better look of what she had gotten herself into.

The vehicle wasn't all that well appointed, compared to the luxury hovercraft her family had. Granted, being in one of the families on the Grand Council counted her amongst the political elite, most of the Lylat-based technology they had was opulent even by their standards. In contrast, the transport she was in appeared stripped and utilitarian. The glass surrounding the viewports was extremely thick, and it was obviously built to withstand abuse.

There was a large opening in the roof, and Krystal looked through it... enjoying the sight and warmth of the sunlight streaming in. A huge blaster cannon was mounted on a turret of sorts... that much she knew by Maloc's explanation on outer space battles. The vehicle's purpose dawned on her... it was military. A light attack transport, she wagered. There was enough room for supplies and cargo, as well as soldiers. But, why was there only one of them?

Krystal's stomach grumbled, and her thoughts were distracted. He had to have food... food and water. The cargo area was the obvious place so she crawled back there. Rifling through the scattered assortment of possessions, she came across a strange box. Upon opening it the vixen found several packages... they were tan in color, and the Lylat language printed on them read 'Meal, Ready to Eat.' She picked one at random and set it aside... it was strange how they could package food in such a small space.

Now for water. It took a lot more digging, but she found another box propped up against a large barrel bolted to the floor of the vehicle. There were many green bottles full of liquid... more than likely water. With a grin she grabbed two of them and slid back into her makeshift bed.

Krystal immediately ran into problems. She couldn't find a way to open the bottles. Tugging them off didn't work; they were sealed tight. Twitching an ear in frustration, she put more strength into it... just in time to sense the vehicle's owner approach the door. She made a show of not being startled as the stranger tapped on the glass window next to her head.

As he opened the door, she got her first good look at him. He bore a resemblance to a Simian, although he sported far less fur than any Lylatian or Cerinian she had ever seen. The tiny bit of it he had was focused in a pattern around his mouth, as well as a very small amount on the top of his head... all a very dark brown in color. The clothing he wore was strange; all tans and browns, interspersed in a pattern of small squares. A complex series of belts and straps were present all around his body... the blaster pistol she had used was once again affixed to his leg, and another blaster rifle was slung on his back. She was about to speak, but he beat her to the punch... motioning to the bottle she had in her paws. "Wow. Hot damn, it's happy hour already." Her strange ally chuckled, shaking his head. He spoke Lylat at the very least... and she once again thanked Melos that she could understand him.

"Happy... hour?" Krystal inquired, setting the bottle aside. She was confused at the term, so she looked into his steel-gray eyes... trying to find any sign of a joke without delving into his thoughts like she had before.

"You grabbed a couple bottles of beer, right? Ain't saying it's a bad thing... after the past few days I really could go for a cold one, too." He reached behind his back, withdrawing a green plastic flask... which he then handed to her. "You're probably pretty damn hungry and thirsty right now."

The Cerinian nodded, taking the flask. It had a top to it, but surprisingly this one came off much more easily than the 'beer' bottle. The slightly metallic tang of water reached her nose... the vixen gave a grateful smile to the stranger, and took a gulp. "Thank you. For everything."

He stood back and nodded, glancing at the tan packet she had set on her lap. "Chicken and noodles, huh? I'll get that set up for you... I was about to sit down to some breakfast myself." He moved away from the vehicle, motioning for her to follow.

Krystal made her way out, staying behind the soldier. He had to have been one... the military vehicle, the clothing, and the gear all screamed it. There weren't many regular soldiers on Cerinia, so seeing one from another culture was an oddity. The blasters he used were... different, also. Cerinian police and military used very basic versions of her Guardian staff... they could use the fire blaster function but weren't sophisticated enough to be imbued with other magical energies.

The area they had parked in was a large clearing, overlooking a smallish lake. The scene was quite peaceful, and there were no rampaging reptiles to spoil the tranquility. He had set up a small spot right next to the lake... a large tan backpack was sitting there, and two large bags filled with small brass objects seemed to be the main focus of attention. Her strange new ally sat down in front of the bags, removing a box similar to hers... before reaching a hand out to her. "Lemme see your MRE."

Krystal handed the packet to him and watched with rapt attention as he slit them both open with a large knife... the one she remembered him using against the reptile that had been beating her. Several other packets lay within, as well as a small box. He opened _those_, revealing yet another packet... his species had some sort of fascination with food packets, she thought.

While he fiddled with the food packets, he glanced up to her. "While these things are brewing... I think we've got a lot to talk about, Miss." He was direct and to the point, but he held out his hand to her in a friendly manner. "First... I'm Sergeant Brian Lancing. Echo Squad leader, Bravo Platoon... United States Marine Corps." His mention of squads and platoons confirmed her suspicions... he was in fact a soldier.

She reached out a paw to grasp and shake his hand... it was a Lylat custom her brother had showed her... Maloc had taught her the language and some of their customs in preparation for a diplomatic trip that had never happened. "I am Krystal Haleth, of the Haleth family. Guardian Adept of Cerinia, and hopeful for membership to the Great Council." Now that she thought about it, Brian had introduced himself in much the same manner as a Cerinian. However, while Maloc had told her stories of the Cornerian Marines... she had heard nothing about a 'United States.'

Brian had scratched the fur on his face in a thoughtful manner, thinking a little bit before replying. "Seems obvious to me. You're a walking, talking fox... speaking English, no less. So... this is Cerinia, I take it?"

Krystal shook her head. "No. I honestly don't know where I am. We have enough time, so I guess I should tell you... tell someone." She began her tale of the past two days... although it was probably more like two months. She nearly broke down in tears at several spots, but the Marine sat through all of it; listening like he was absorbing her tale and filing it away. "Cerinia is my home planet... I was completing the Trials... a series of tests in order to become a Guardian. I had finished the last Trial, when the Great Hall we were in was attacked... soldiers from some part of Lylat; Venom, I think my brother called them." The vixen paused for a moment, turning her head away. She didn't want to break out into tears in front of a near-stranger, but the memories were just too fresh.

"They started killing anyone that even looked at them; fired some sort of gas into the Hall. My family escaped, my parents, brother, and I... and ran to our shuttlecraft. The soldiers were after me, but none of us knew why." She paused for a moment, shutting her eyes, continuing even through the tears.. which Brian could plainly see. "They shot my mother, right in front of me. My brother threw me in stasis and set the shuttle to take off. I was supposed to show up on a planet called Aquas, where he would meet me... but I ended up here instead."

Brian reached towards the boxes that held their meals. Noting that they were pretty much done, he extracted the pouches and opened them, handing her one of them and its accompanying spoon as he responded. "So... some alien combatants were after you for some reason, and your mother was killed helping you get off your planet. You were stuffed into some sort of stasis machine, woke up after your ship crashed here... and then that's when you had a go with those lizard-men?" At her nod, he continued between bites of his beef stew. "So, looks like both of us are stuck here in the ass end of nowhere."

The vixen took an experimental bite before starting in on the meal ravenously. It was some sort of meat with noodles and a thick sauce, but it was actually really good for being stuffed in a packet. She had finished hers in mere moments, before looking up at him and attempting to wipe the dregs of the ration from her muzzle. "What happened to you, Brian? How did you end up here?"

"Hoo boy." Brian arched an eyebrow at his new ally. He was hesitant to call her a friend, but she had been through some really rough shit. Since they both had no clue what was going on, it was apparent that they needed to stick together until they got to the bottom of this. "Basically, to set the scene, my nation is at war. We were trying to take a city away from the hands of the enemy.. they held onto it pretty damn well."

To her credit, Krystal didn't ask any questions, listening to what he had to say until he was finished. "My squad was ordered to attack one of their fortified positions. It was a mix-up with the officers, I think. Some of them probably didn't know there were already plans to attack the building with an experimental weapon. A high-ranking officer told me to get my men out of there, so I did... and I got hit with the weapon in the process." The Marine waved around, indicating wherever the Hell they were. "I ended up here. Pretty damn disturbing, if you ask me."

The vixen glanced up to him. She was curious as to why he fought wars, but it really didn't matter right now. They were stuck on whatever planet they had been cast away on. She needed to get to Aquas, and Brian needed to get back to... wherever he was from. _Those_ were the questions she needed to ask. She wasn't about to look into his mind again. While he wasn't cautiously aware of it, she could sense a faint amount of distrust. They needed to stick together, and Krystal wasn't about to jeopardize the only ally she had here. "Where do you come from?"

"I guess since we're using planet names... it's called Earth. Before you ask, we only have rudimentary space travel... we've only gone to our moon a few times, and have landed robots on the nearest planet. As far as anyone knows... I guess I'm the only human to set foot on a habitable planet other than our own." It was the truth, but he didn't feel like embellishing too much. Brian doubted Krystal was a threat, but the presence of technologically advanced militaries _elsewhere_ was what worried him.

"It sounds much like Cerinia, honestly. The only reason we have spacecraft is because we bought them from Lylatian traders. I just find it... odd that you are speaking their language, yet you're from a completely different world." The vixen twitched her ear as she said that... that was something that didn't make any kind of sense.

"Mystery of the universe, I guess. I'm not a linguist... and believe me, you've done some odd things that I've every right to ask you about in return." At her puzzled look, he patted the holster on his thigh... the one that held his Colt. "There are people who carry one of these because someone who hasn't handled one before doesn't usually know how to operate it. You snagged it from me in that fight, got a proper grip... even disengaged the safety like you had been born around one of these." His steel gray eyes stared into hers. "How'd you figure it out?"

Krystal turned away from him, her ears lowering and tail drooping With her soiled clothing and matted fur, she really did look like a sorry sight. Her response was quiet, but in the near-silence anyone could have heard it. "I... I read your mind. Please forgive me... it was the only way I could have made sure that reptile didn't kill you."

"Wait a minute." Brian's tone of voice sounded more curious than anything else... which caused the vixen to look back at him. Most Cerinians would have launched into an outrage... telepaths weren't too common but enough stories of those being cheated out of their silver or their will by an evil 'mind-molester' left her cringing at the prospect of telling him. "You can read minds? Like... ESP, psychics, and stuff like that?"

She nodded tentatively, displaying a puzzled look. "I'm not sure what you are saying, but yes. I am a telepath. Are they common on your... Earth?" Perhaps they were numerous on his planet, and that his kind weren't afraid of their abilities?

To her amazement, he shook his head. "People pop up on national TV all the time saying that they can. But, all I've seen is talk, and no walk. Can't provide even a shred of evidence, only speculation." What he said next outright surprised her. "So... prove it. Let's see if you can tell Miss Cleo where to stick it. What am I thinking about right now?"

the Cerinian's jaw dropped just a bit, causing Brian to give her a puzzled look. "You... _want_ me to read your mind? Are you absolutely sure?" If she was going to peer into the human's mind, she was going to make sure she had a paw-carved invitation to do so.

The Marine nodded, arching his eyebrow as he looked her in the eye, steel grey meeting emerald green in a mute contest of will. "Yeah. I want you to prove to me you can read my mind. Seeing is believing, Krystal."

Krystal shut her eyes, her paw reaching out to lay on top of his hand. He just about pulled away, but maybe it was part of the show. After a moment, she spoke. "You have been craving that 'beer' I had since you pulled me out of the vehicle you call a Humvee. However, it is not cold, and you have been trying to figure out how to cool it down. The lake water here won't get it quite as cold, so you were trying to think of another way."

Brian's eyes widened, and it was his turn for jaw dropping. "Christ... you really _are_ a mind-reader. That must..." Krystal stopped him with a wave of a paw.

"You also don't seem to be too unhappy by being stuck here. In fact, you see this like a new adventure... an escape from something. You have some _serious_ mental blocks around that, which means you have some secrets." Brian moved his hand away, and the vixen shook her head. "Please don't worry, Brian. I'm not going to go deeper than you are willing to tell me. Practicing telepathy on someone without their consent is a crime on Cerinia." A soft smile appeared on her muzzle. "You've been kind to me... I won't repay it with deceit. Do you trust me?"

The Marine nodded, although he admitted to himself that he had his doubts. Still, the strange alien foxette hadn't done anything to harm him, so he'd trust her... until otherwise convinced. "Deal. You watch my back, and I'll watch yours." He blinked a few times, glancing down at his watch. "Tell you what. I've been up all night... ain't too safe for both of us to be conked out with these lizards around." Brian reached behind him, pulling out an all too familiar staff and handing it to her. "This is yours, right?"

Krystal nodded, accepting her weapon with a soft smile. "Thank you for recovering it. I had been wondering if it was lost by my shuttle... it's something I've worked very hard for." She stood up, looking at herself... she needed a quick swim in that lake as well as a change of clothes. The ceremonial armor that all Cerinians wore during their Trials wasn't something she wanted to run around this planet with. "You wouldn't... have a change of clothes, would you?"

The human pointed towards the tan-colored vehicle. "Yeah. Got some fatigues in the back. Maybe a mix and match will fit you... if you don't mind looking like a jarhead." With a grin he motioned her to the Humvee. As they reached it he pulled back into the cargo area, fishing around for a moment before coming out with a mixed assortment of clothing as well as a blanket. "Since you have a tail, here's my knife. Just in case you need to do some last-minute alterations." As he explained, he slipped the Ka-Bar from its scabbard. "If something happens, go ahead and wake me. If it's hostile, give me a clean line so I can shoot the bastards." He grinned, pointing to the big weapon on top of the vehicle.

"I shall, thank you." Krystal grinned at him, looking up to the long-barreled blaster. "What exactly is that, anyway?" It was obviously a blaster, but it was huge compared to the ones the human carried.

"Browning M2A2 machine gun. We call it the Ma Deuce. Sucker will tear through just about anything short of a tank, and will splatter something from a range of about a mile if you're a good enough shot." Brian reached up and patted the barrel affectionately. "Problem is that I don't have much ammo for it, but you don't need a lot to turn something into a grease spot." Laughing, he climbed into the back seat of the Humvee. "Just wake me if you've got a question."

The vixen smiled and shook her head as she walked back to the lake with her new clothing and blanket... presumably to dry off if she needed to. The thought of getting all the dried slime out of her fur was tempting, so without further preamble she dove into the water... armor and all.


	6. 5: Plan of Action

**Notes: Sorry this took a little longer. Ran into a little bit of writer's block on the way, and ended up cranking out a larger chapter than usual. However, this is where it starts to follow the storyline of Adventures. The next two chapters will feature Brian and Krystal separately. Now, since these can be posted out of order and I will be working on both at the same time... this begs the question, and begs a vote. Which do you want to see first? Brian going through Ice Mountain, or Krystal's trek through the Krazoa Palace? Give me a vote, folks.**

**And, to answer reviews:**

**Northern-Megas: Well, yeah... I'm sure an M2 will be a bit weak when going up against a T-Rex, but it might work... you never know. Hehe. And, I'm trying to make them a little... friendlier this go-round, but Krystal's past will definitely play a part in things to come. **

**Vulpine Fury: Hmm... one driving, the other gunning. That will definitely work its way into another episode. Also, I'm glad you like how I portray Brian. I'm trying to keep him aloof, but not as much of an ass as last go-round, but not fawning or freaking over Krystal, either. As far as Krystal getting a firearm? That might happen.. keep tuned.**

**Shino: I'm not from Montana, actually... closest I've been there was Wyoming, and that was a state away. ;) I do live in the West, though. **

* * *

Chapter 5: Plan of Action

Brian was woken abruptly by a gentle shaking on his shoulder. Trying very hard not to startle, he opened his eyes before placing his hand on his pistol... which was sitting on the center console of the Humvee. Krystal was looking back at him, with what he assumed was a worried expression on her muzzle.

She had definitely cleaned up, wearing a pair of desert BDU pants along with an olive drab standard-issue T-shirt. The myriad of jewelry she wore was still present, giving a strange hint of class to the fatigues. "You're awake?" she spoke with a hint of relief. "Please... come out here and take a look at this." The vixen practically pulled him out while he was shaking off the cobwebs.

"Waitasec..." he murmured. "We aren't gonna have company, right?" Krystal simply shook her head and pointed toward the horizon. A thick column of smoke wafted up among the forest. It was distant, but it meant that something was going on. "Someone wasn't following Smokey the Bear's advice..." Brian mused. "...how long ago did this happen?"

"Not long, maybe a few minutes ago." The Cerinian pointed to the smoke. "I didn't see it land, but a large ship took off after the smoke started. If you're willing, I can show you." At his nod she placed her paw back on his shoulder. She didn't have to maintain contact to use most of her abilities, but it helped with thought transfers such as what she was doing. She conjured the mental image of the strange craft taking off.

The effect of seeing something that happened in the past through someone else's eyes was a bit... trippy to say the least. Brian was watching some strange-ass ship lift off from the forest. The damn thing looked like an old-time sailing ship, only with big wings and a massive dragon's head as its figurehead. In all honesty it looked like something straight out of a Monty Python film, and he wouldn't believe it if he wasn't seeing it secondhand. "What the hell is that, do you figure?" Brian asked his vulpine ally after she removed her paw.

"I'm not sure, but I think that those reptiles we fought off have something to do with it. Shall we find out what happened?" Krystal's tail swayed lightly... her instincts had her guessing that whatever started the smoke would lead them to figuring out what was going on here.

"Curiosity killed the cat, but it has yet to kill a Marine." Brian nodded and continued to peer at the smoke. "Can your voodoo pick up these guys before we run in on top of them?" He wanted as much tactical information as he could. While the lizards didn't seem to have much in the way of firepower... their muskets weren't able to get past modern body armor... being outnumbered wasn't fun.

"If I concentrate, I can pick them up from... two hundred yards away." She had to read some surface thoughts from the human in order to equate to his terms of distance, but she doubted he would mind. "If I'm focusing on other things, about one hundred. I'm not as practiced at it, but I will get better with time." She smiled at him as she moved over to the passenger door. With that she slipped into the vehicle.

Brian took a couple of moments to look at the smoke. Without binoculars or any sort of landmark, it was hard to judge distance. Whatever it was, the smoke was at least a few miles off. With those figures in mind, he climbed into the Humvee, starting the diesel with a press of a button. "Well, let's get on with it and play some Dudley-Do-Right." As he pulled out of the clearing and onto the path, he started feeling like he was in one of those old cop shows. The Humvee was his squad car, and Krystal was his quirky yet capable partner. _'Hell, someone could do a TV show about _this._'_ he thought.

The vixen quickly marveled at the vehicle. It wasn't a hovercar, but it could gain speed quickly. Even though the ride was jouncy, it felt solid... owing to the fact the chassis was heavily armored. She pulled her staff out of the footwell... knowing full well that it would receive more use by the time all of this was over.

Brian shrugged and flipped on the CD player that was bolted to the dash in a display of jury-rigged workmanship. He wasn't sure what her taste in music was, but within seconds the refrain to Nirvana's _Lounge Act_ was thundering through the cabin. To her credit she didn't flinch, cringe, or tell him to knock it off; although he did catch a puzzled look from the Cerinian.

Krystal listened to the music. It wasn't exactly to her taste... very complex, harsh, and somewhat synthetic-sounding. However, the singing wasn't too bad. After a few moments of roaring down the path, she turned to him. "Is this stuff... popular where you come from?"

Brian responded without taking his eyes off the road. "In some circles, yes. I grew up with these bands... Alice in Chains, Nirvana, Mad Season, a few others... I was listening to them since I was a kid. Had a couple of cousins in Seattle that I stayed with over the summers, so I got to go to a few shows." As he continued to drive, he turned down the volume. "Not exactly used to grunge, are you?"

She shook her head. "Honestly, no. Most music on Cerinia is instrumental, usually using what people from Lylat call flutes or wind-powered instruments. I don't have a trained ear, but I take it this is mostly... string instruments?"

"Yeah. Most rock music is played with guitars and a set of drums. A lead to do all the complex stuff, a rhythm guitar to do most of the midrange filler, and a bass to complete the set. I used to play... actually I can do most of these songs, if I had a guitar." With a laugh he slowed down... they were about to go up a steep hill.

She kept silent as they climbed, but didn't have enough time to reply as they crested it... they were right at the source of the smoke. Her jaw dropped as she saw the destruction. Spots of the valley they were overlooking were on fire, and she squinted as she saw several strange, large creatures trying to put them out. Krystal glanced over to Brian, noticing he was gawking as well... for different reasons.

"Dinosaurs? _Dinosaurs_? You have _got_ to be kidding me. Lizard-men I can handle. Walking, talking foxes I can handle. But... dinosaurs? This takes the damn cake. I thought you could sense them?" This was turning into a regular _Jurassic Park_ rehash, here.

"They're too far away, Brian." Krystal stated. They were a little over three hundred yards away, but he kept on driving. Within a few moments she could sense them. They were frantic, trying to extinguish the blazes by dousing them with water from a creek which bisected the small valley. "They need help... we need to get down there!"

"Slowly, Krystal. We don't want them thinking we're hostile. We _are_ in a heavily armed military vehicle, but I'd rather not be rammed. That Triceratops over there doesn't exactly look happy at us being here." Brian pointed out that one of the group seemed to be watching them.

As they drew closer it stopped carrying buckets with its mouth and hunched over... preparing to charge the Humvee if need be. He had done some research on them for an old middle school project. Small specimens were estimated to have been nearly 14,000 pounds... almost twice the weight of the armored vehicle they were in. Even with the armor it would be like getting hit with a semi truck.

Krystal closed her eyes, now concentrating on her senses rather than what Brian was doing. "He's very cautious... stop here. _Now!_" Brian laid on the brakes, and the massive creature kept hunched over. "I'm going out first. Don't alarm him... he won't strike unless we do anything first."

Brian huffed at her as he clambered over the driver's seat, grabbing onto the gunner's sling. "If he gets any bright ideas, I'm going to defend us. I'm not going to risk our lives just yet." He wasn't about to pop up and man the M2, but he was going to damn well make sure he was ready to fire if need be. This one appeared intelligent, and it didn't take too much of an intellect to interpret a long stick being pointed at you as a threat.

The vixen shook her head. "Just let me handle it, and come out when I tell you. Do you still trust me?" She looked at him, her emerald gaze piercing his eyes in return... before reciting an ancient Cerinian adage. "_Doloh ro kee giasb ke hojehk ke u rcuto."_

The Marine scratched his head and responded in another foreign language. "_Ihre Sprache ist sehr interessant, Frau Fuchsin. Jedoch, kann ich sie nicht verstehen."_ At least a year of high school German gave him a bit of a witty retort. At her confused glance, he smiled. "My sentiments exactly." With a shake of her head she stepped out of the vehicle.

Krystal kept her staff tucked into the belt she had scavenged from the back of the Humvee. She needed to make sure he knew she was a friend and not a foe. She kept her paws in the air, speaking in her native Cerinian as clearly as she could. "_We are only here to help. We saw the smoke from afar, and were just coming to investigate."_

The dinosaur hunched further, making sure she didn't have a direct shot at the others that were trying to put out the fires... with varying degrees of success. _"What are you, little one?" _he demanded, his posture declaring that he didn't buy her story... no matter how true it really was. _"What business have you in Thorntail Hollow?"_

_"I speak the truth, noble one."_ the vixen continued, keeping her ears flat and her tail motionless... the typical body language to show submission and respect amongst her race. _"Please... let us help. We seek only information in return. My friend and I won't ask anything more of you."_

The dinosaur didn't seem entirely convinced. _"I will let you and your friend help. But, don't even think of trying to cross us, and don't bring that metal beast any closer._ _The Queen will speak with you when we are through... that much I will assure you."_

Krystal waved to the Humvee, watching Brian climb out of it shortly afterward, two large containers in his hands. The vixen noted with relief that he had refrained from bring any of the larger blasters he had... although the small one was still strapped to his leg. As he reached her, he glanced up to the dinosaur that stood there, blocking his way.

_"You are this furred one's friend?" _the Earthwalker asked. However, his reply was in a strange language. The furred one was serving as its interpreter, possibly. The Queen would be interested in speaking with these two aliens... if they survived the attack Scales had made on the Hollow, that was. The Sharpclaw hadn't found the Queen's hiding place, thank the Krazoa for that small comfort.

_"He is, yes. Do not worry... we are both stranded here, and seek only to help."_ Krystal waved him on, and they approached the stream. The water was cold, and wading through caused her to gasp in mild shock. "We need to get these fires out, and quick!"

Brian nodded, stopping to fill the large containers... actually a couple of five-gallon buckets that had held some assorted camping gear. "These dinos are short on manpower; they might be able to contain a couple of these blazes, but we're going to need to concentrate on the others. If we join in with them we'll get the ones they're working on put out more quickly..." his Nomex-gloved hand pointed to one of the smaller fires near them... "but, if these get out of control this whole entire place is going up like a thermite grenade in a prairie."

The vixen took one of the full buckets. It was large and it was pretty heavy... but she wasn't going to let that bother her. She crossed the grass field with the Marine, locked into a battle... a battle with all-consuming flames. Her paws gripped the bucket and tossed its contents onto the blaze; watching the fire fade a little at her assault. Brian did the same, and they ran back to the stream again.

* * *

The smell of smoke permeated the air as dusk fell, but they had stopped the fires from damaging anything important in the small valley. Soaked and tired yet victorious, the Cerinian and human leaned against the stopped Humvee, enjoying a hasty meal of more MREs. Krystal cast a tired smile at her ally, who was simply sitting there munching on his tetrazzini. "We were a big help, Brian... those Thorntail really appreciated us jumping in and lending our paws."

"That's definitely true, but whoever decided to do this wasn't trying to play Beavis and Butthead here." At the vixen's confused look, he continued. "This looks like a snatch-and-grab job to me. I figure they landed, shot up the place a bit and raided them while they were taking cover."

"But, what would they take? There obviously is something very important here, if they were willing to stop the fires and not flee." Krystal scratched her ear, looking out across the hazy valley. They wouldn't have to wait long for an answer, as the Earthwalker that barred their way earlier lumbered up to their vehicle.

_"Forgive me for being abrupt earlier... this war with Scales' forces has made us all very cautious about who we deal with."_ The Earthwalker pointed his tail towards one end of the valley, where a massive stone structure was built into a cliffside. Brian was a little floored at how dinosaurs managed to construct buildings... but if they could speak, they could probably build, too. _"The Queen of the Earthwalker tribe will see you now. Please follow me."_ With that he trudged off towards the stone structure, leaving Brian and Krystal little choice but to follow.

The two remained silent as they were led through the meadows and into a small courtyard lined with a waist-high stone wall. Another Earthwalker sat there, adorned in body paint and precious jewels... she had to be the Queen. Krystal went into a bow, although Brian stood off to the side and watched the proceedings. _"Greetings, Queen Earthwalker. I am Krystal, Guardian of the Grand Family of Haleth, on the world of Cerinia. My companion is Sergeant Brian Lancing from the United States Marine Corps, of the planet Earth. We wish only information and perhaps the chance to help you; we have both been stranded here with no knowledge of what is happening here."_

Brian stood back, watching them with a little interest. The language was different and he didn't have a clue in hell what they were saying, but the conversation became very animated. The Queen sounded pretty distraught over something, and continued to talk to Krystal for a few minutes. The occasional point towards him let the Marine know _he_ was also a topic of discussion. Krystal then broke off and turned to him, worry apparent in her expression.

"I found out what was going on... and it is not good. The Sharpclaw, who are the 'lizards' we dealt with earlier... they're trying to take over the entire planet. They have removed four magical Spellstones from a special temple designed to keep the planet in one piece... and it's breaking apart because of it." Noting Brian's puzzled look, she continued. "There are also several sacred spirits called Krazoa... the temple _they_ reside in has been attacked. Most of them have been hidden over the years, but there is still one left in the temple... we have to retrieve it. But..."

Brian shrugged. "There's always a catch, right?" While he wasn't as peeved off about being stuck on an alien planet as he believed he should be... fighting someone else's war was something he was growing tired of doing. _Especially_ if it required finding magic stones and herding ghosts around.

Krystal continued, understanding that he was pretty skeptical about doing this. She didn't blame him; this was a fight neither one of them _had_ to be involved in. Yet, they would be saving a planet that needed help, and she felt obligated to do it. "The Queen's son Tricky was taken by General Scales, the leader of the Sharpclaw... they are using him as ransom for them to leave the Krazoa Palace defenseless. If they go there... the Sharpclaw will kill him."

"I see." Brian mused, scratching his goatee. "So, they can't stop them at this Krazoa thingamajig because they'll off her kid if they do. If they focus their efforts at getting her kid back... that leaves this Krazoa place undefended. One hell of a catch twenty-two. I guess I'm in, seeing as we have the firepower to make 'em feel the pain."

The vixen smiled, giving him a brief hug... blinking at the fact that he stepped back a bit after she let go. He wasn't really willing to express even friendly affection, which seemed very odd to her. "Ehm... how will we do this... both at one time?" Brian's jaw dropped as she said that.

"Wait a second. I thought we were going to go on one mission, and they would follow up with another? What gives?" The human was puzzled, and more than a little irked. If they weren't going to hold up their end of the bargain, why should they?

"It's not that simple. With the planet broken up as it is, well... it's very hard to get around. They have a way of getting us to where we need to go, but for some reason it cannot transport any of the native Saurians." As Brian scowled, she placed a paw on his shoulder. "Please. They really need our help."

"Alright." The Marine grumbled. "One question. If we are going to have to split up, what are we going to do? Who goes to this Krazoa place, and who gets to pick up the Queen's kid?" He would have to prepare for either. On one hand, rescuing the kid meant that whoever did it would have to speak the language. That was Krystal's territory. On the other hand, going to that Palace meant that they would have to deal with those... spirits, for lack of a better term. With Krystal's abilities, it would be easier for her to do it, also.

She sensed this, moving her other paw up to scratch her ear. "Well, she said obtaining a Krazoa spirit meant going through trials to ensure only one of pure heart has a chance at taking it. I would be better at this, with the preparation I had to go through for my own Trials." She grinned at him, forcing bitter memories away for the moment being. "It's okay if you don't speak Cerinian, Brian. Let me ask if there is something that they can give you... something that her son will recognize."

Krystal turned to the Queen once more, offering the Earthwalker a sincere smile. _"My friend will help us, as well. However, he does not speak our language; is there anything you can provide him that your son might recognize?"_

_"Your strange friend speaks Lylat, yes?"_ When Krystal nodded, the Queen continued, chuckling somewhat. The laughter was deep and mirthful, especially when regarding the situation. _"My son has spent much time around the shopkeeper, Shabunga. He speaks the Lylat tongue... I'm quite proud of him."_ She turned to Brian then... even though they couldn't understand each other. _"If you can return my son to me, the Earthwalker tribe will be in your debt."_

The vixen glanced to the Marine, now playing translator to the two. "She says her son speaks Lylat, so communicating with him won't be a problem. Also, the Earthwalker tribe will be indebted to us if we help them... their planet is in severe danger because of this, Brian."

The human glanced down to his boots before looking up. "Well, looks like the more things change, the more stays the same. The Marines have a... knack for making dictators have a bad day." His eyes fell on Krystal, a plan forming in his mind. "What I need to know is where they are and how we're getting there."

The Cerinian conveyed this to the Earthwalker, perking her ears when she received the Queen's response. _"The Warpstone will be able to take you to Ice Mountain as well as Krazoa Palace... __it will be able to bring you back from the Palace, although your friend will have to come back from Ice Mountain himself."_ She nodded upwards, Krystal following her gaze to a tall snow-capped peak in the distance. This would definitely be a trial for them both...

* * *

"Well... looks like we're going solo for a bit." Brian rehashed their situation as they made their way back to the Humvee. "I know you've got the easy ride in and out, but... with all this gear I think I need to get you outfitted correctly."

"What do you mean by that?" Krystal inquired. "I have a new set of clothes, my staff... I doubt I'll be gone long enough to need any food. What else would I need?" She was a bit puzzled at that... other than Brian grabbing his weapons, they were pretty much ready for their respective tasks.

The Marine glanced over to her as they reached the vehicle. He had been mulling this decision over for the past few minutes, but... she was right. He had to trust her. The fact was they had to work together to get out of this mess. "I've been thinking it over a bit. You need a piece. Your staff might be potent and all of that, but if the chips go down there's no substitute for a gun in your hand. Just have a dilemma as far as that goes."

She regarded him, placing a paw on the fender of the vehicle. He was going to give her a blaster? "What... dilemma do you have?" She asked curiously, fighting the urge to put her paw on his shoulder. The human was just too... distracted, too caught up on what he needed to do to get the job done rather than just... doing it.

"Well... the M16 might be a bit big and bulky if you need to get up close, but I want to give you something with more punch than a nine-millimeter. These Sharpclaw are a bit tough, and I think you'd be better off with something that'll put one of those down with authority." He glanced into the Humvee, looking around the cargo area. He had only really poked around it in the dark, and that meant there might be other stuff hiding around... "Wait a second. They stretched a tarp up here. There's gotta be something..." A loud clatter and a yelp caused Krystal to look at her alien companion, who was grumbling a bit, pulling out of the Humvee with a hand held to the back of his head. "Dammit... who keeps shit stored up there like that?"

The vixen giggled, now placing her hand on his shoulder. "Let me have a look." Removing his hand, she saw that he had endured a decent-sized bump, but nothing was bleeding. "there's no blood... you'll be okay. Sounds like you found more stuff." She glanced into the vehicle, but all she really saw was a bunch of displaced cloth and a few objects in the pile.

"More like the stuff found me." Brian mused, eliciting another giggle from Krystal. He climbed back into the Humvee, recognizing one of the objects that fell. "Well, this is something you can use." As he emerged from the Humvee, he held a weapon that looked very much like one of the blaster rifles he had, but much more compact. "M4 Carbine. These guys were probably keeping it as a room-sweeper. The colonel ordered us all to keep M16s instead of these for the knockdown power.

"It looks a lot lighter than the one you have, Brian." Krystal took a good look at it. He held the M4 out to her, which she took great care in handling. "It is pretty light; I could go through my combat stances with my staff while also carrying this." She grinned like a kit with a new toy. "How... do I use it?"

"Brian brought out the larger version, showing it to the vixen and pointing out several key features. "Well, you have this switch here that selects the fire mode. Safe means the rifle won't fire if you pull the trigger or drop it.. keep it on this setting unless you're getting into a fight. Semi means the rifle will fire one shot per trigger pull, and burst means it will fire three. You have thirty rounds per magazine, so keep it on Semi unless you're in a whole heap of trouble. When you do a mag change, you press this catch here... make sure you keep the magazine." Brian demonstrated the controls for her. "Then you press this catch here to work the bolt home... and you're ready to go. You can also pull this handle at the top of the rifle to do it, too."

The Cerinian practiced moving the switches and ejecting the magazine, trying to get familiar with the alien weapon. Her paws fumbled with it at first, but with a few practice reloads she quickly got the hang of it. "So... keep it on safe until I'm ready to use it. If I use it, keep it on semi. Bursts go through shots quickly, so only use them in emergencies?" Brian nodded, offering her a grin. "And... I think you look through this hole in the back and line up the notch in the front as a sight? It acts like my brother's blaster."

"You got it." Brian reached back inside the Humvee and tossed a pouch to her. "That has three extra magazines. With the one you have in the gun you've got a hundred twenty rounds. Should be enough without weighing you down too much. Just don't spray everything down with burst fire and you'll be fine." In a move she wasn't expecting he patted her on the shoulder. "Should give you some extra insurance."

Krystal gave him a smile as she placed the pouch on her belt, which she had also tucked her staff into. "Thank you, Brian... for everything. I'm not sure what would have happened to me if you hadn't showed up."

"Don't thank me yet, Krystal." The Marine shrugged. "I was just in the right place at the right time. We've got a lot of ground to cover, so let's get to it." He motioned up to one end of the valley. It was blocked off by a large brick wall, although one of the Earthwalkers had punched a hasty opening through it. Beyond that lay a very large stone statue... which was the Warpstone, form what they were told.

"That is true, Brian." Krystal blinked and looked at him. He had pulled off his pack and was tucking rifle magazines into his vest. While they were still going to be on a mission of sorts, it didn't mean that they couldn't have fun. "Are you ready?" At his nod, she developed a mischievous grin. "Beat you there." Without even waiting for a reply she took off, rushing towards the wall that blocked the Warpstone off from the rest of the valley.

Brian was unprepared, but he decided to play along. He rushed after her, although Krystal's head start and the fact the vixen was only loaded down with about a quarter of the ammo he was dragging along made playing catch-up a very difficult proposition. She was _fast._

Even used to booking it in combat zones, Brian had trouble even gaining ground on her. She was looking back and laughing jovially, and that made him grin. At least she was focusing on something _else_ than what had happened to her. The Cerinian rushed up a small slope, leaping through the opening to the small cove above the valley.

Krystal stopped, for all the world barely out of breath from the run. It was a full ten seconds before Brian jumped through... even without his combat pack he was a little winded. "Damn... you have been eating your Wheaties! I would have paid fifty bucks to see you race against DI Barnes!" He laughed a bit, patting her on the shoulder. "I'll make a Marine out of you yet."

The vixen giggled at the compliments, flicking her ears at him as he spoke. "I wasn't the swiftest one in Guardian training, but I wasn't far behind. But, if you want me to be a Marine, you'll have to tell me what you Marines actually do, first." She gave him a friendly wink before turning to the Warpstone the Queen was telling her about. Her expression got a little more serious as she explained what was going to happen. "She told me that the Warpstone will have the power to send me to Krazoa Palace, and you to Ice Mountain. We will be seeing quite a bit of him, so be polite." Even now she could sense that the Warpstone was in slumber, but slowly stirring. "Let me talk to him, first."

Krystal slowly skirted around the massive stone figure, getting a good look at its proportions. Chiseled from granite, it showed a very rotund, square-jawed figure with a mirthful grin permanently placed on its features. With a small feeling of nervousness she stepped on the stone dais in front of it. "H.. hello?" she asked hesitantly.

The reply was unexpected. The figure moved, its arms stretching and a loud, rumbling yawn coming from its large mouth. She had woke it up, but she didn't sense too much anger from it. The Warpstone spoke in an accent that Krystal knew as an obscure Cerinian dialect. Krystal was distracted as she caught a burst of mental laughter from Brian... something was pretty funny. "Who be disturbing my slumber? A Warpstone like me be needing his beauty sleep, yanno?" The Warpstone bent down a little bit, eying the vixen with a puzzled gaze. "At least ye not be tryin' te read my mind. Yer a polite one! Now, who ye be, lass?"

"I am Krystal, Guardian of Family Haleth from Cerinia. I seek passage to Krazoa Palace, and my friend seeks passage to Ice Mountain. We are trying to help the Earthwalker Tribe defeat General Scales." Krystal was direct when she needed to, and time was running out.

"Aye, so the Thorntail have told me. They dinnae have much of a chance before ye showed up... they be busy at savin' their own tails." The Warpstone turned to the side, casting a critical eye towards Brian. "Now, who ye be, lad?"

The Marine introduced himself... Krystal said to be polite, so he snapped a salute. Not exactly protocol, but it would work. "Brian Lancing. Sergeant, First Division, United States Marines." He remained silent after that.. more because he didn't know what to say. It wasn't every day that he ran into a talking statue that sounded just like Fat Bastard from the _Austin Powers_ movies. It took a good dose of willpower not to crack up.

"Alright then, I'll help ye both. Ye best be getting on that dais where yer friend is on, Lancing. As Brian moved next to Krystal it rose from the ground, meeting the Warpstone who regarded the two with a curious gaze. "Now... my magic dinnae let me warp dinosaurs, but it let me warp ye both." He held out both massive hands. "Step on my left hand to go to Krazoa Palace, and step on my right hand to go to Ice Mountain."

Krystal looked at Brian, placing a paw on his shoulder to get his attention. "Please be safe out there. There are Sharpclaw, and we already know they're dangerous." She offered him a soft smile. "I don't want to lose another friend."

"Don't worry about me." the Marine countered. "I've been in worse scrapes. Just take care of yourself, alright? If all else fails, fill 'em with lead." he patted the stock of the M4 slung around her back. "Something tells me this is just the beginning."

the vixen nodded, tearing her emerald eyes away from his before stepping on the Warpstone's left hand. As she did so Brian stepped on its twin, giving her a nod. Without any preamble, the world disappeared in a flash of swirling color.


	7. 6: Whiteout

**Notes: Well, I'll keep it short for this chapter. The next chapter, featuring Krystal, is actually fairly well on its way; a major benefit to splitting up the action is that I can concentrate on two chapters at a time without screwing up the plot. Since the unanimous decision was for Brian's part to be posted up first(I had actually been thinking about posting Krystal's before putting it to a vote), that's what ya get. :P**

**Hopefully I did Tricky justice in this one... I wanted to make him a pain in the ass but not a completely useless character, either. I won't go into specific reviews because I'm trying to keep these notes sections fairly short; but thanks for the ideas. You'll see what I mean by the end of the chapter. So, for now... enjoy. :)**

Chapter 6: Whiteout.

The nausea and vertigo of having his entire body dematerialized and kicked God knows how far away was a bit of a shock to Brian. The sensation of being thrown into a freezer didn't help things, either. The Marine was used to the blistering hot desert climate of Iraq... and while the temperatures dropped at night they weren't as bad as what he was going through now.

The good thing was that his fatigues and body armor provided a good dose of insulation... for that he was pretty damn thankful. As he looked around, the terrain looked pretty similar to the rugged Rocky Mountains he grew up in... although with a severe lack of trees. He was in a pretty sheltered area; surrounded by rock walls which broke the occasional gust of wind that blew snow around.

The light from whatever moon the planet had shone on the packed snow, casting the entire place in an ethereal glow. Ahead, he could see a massive stone door with some sort of small spacecraft parked next to it... or at least he assumed it was a spacecraft. Maybe if he had been an Chair Force jet pilot he would have hijacked the damn thing, but Marine NCO training didn't exactly focus on how to fly a stolen flying saucer. With a chuckle he unslung his M16... a very solid choice in an open tactical arena. This would be a cakewalk; grab the dinosaur's son and get him to safety.

Brian moved out from the shelter of the rock wall, his eyes focused on the door ahead of him. He was about to walk towards it before a muffled _boom_ reached his ears. The Marine knew incoming artillery fire when he heard it, and that meant he had to take cover. He dove back behind the rock wall as the incoming round slammed into the snow where he had stood. The explosion lifted his body and threw it against unyielding stone... knocking the breath out of him even through the armor.

Brian remained there for several minutes, trying to regain his senses. Whoever decided to drop a mortar round on his ass was now on his hit list... he didn't appreciate being blown up. "Okay... this isn't cute anymore!" He grumbled and collected his rifle. Using a more stealthy approach, he stuck the rifle out just past the wall, moving slowly and revealing as little of himself as possible. His eye peered through the rifle's sights, getting a better look at the area.

He was in a very shallow valley between two folds of mountains... a narrow corridor leading toward the cave doors being covered by whatever had decided to lob a shell at him. The trick was to find what had fired said shell, and catch whoever was operating it in his sights... without being seen.

His search paid off as he turned the rifle to his left. A cannon was perched behind another rock wall, and two of those Sharpclaw were intently watching where he had been before... apparently looking to lob another shell up his ass if he decided to run out. They were unaware of the M16 slowly tracking the one nearest the firing mechanism. Brian set the sights on its head and allowed his finger to slowly tighten on its trigger.

The M16 barked its report into the cold mountain air and a flash of crimson spray erupted from the Sharpclaw. With speed developed from training and experience, Brian bracketed the other one. The rifle spoke once more and the gun's crew was silenced... permanently. "Not so smug now, are you?" Shaking his head, he glanced toward the doors... he was free to go.

The Marine crossed the distance to the doors unmolested, gripping his rifle in his glove-clad hands... ready for any other opposition. He passed the spacecraft, seeing no obvious entrance into it. It would be tactically dangerous not to check it, but damn if he knew how to open it up. Taking a deep breath he approached the door; balancing the M16 in his right hand just in case he had to use it immediately.

As he opened the door, he found out he did. A Sharpclaw armed with an axe charged him... much too close for comfort. Brian took action, not even having enough time to shoot. He jabbed the barrel into its gut, doubling it over and giving him a split second more time... all he needed. Taking the rifle back into both hands and pivoting it, he slammed its stock into the back of its head. The crack of the hit attracted the other occupants of the cave.

Two more Sharpclaw were crowded around a small Earthwalker... Tricky, he assumed. The two reptiles looked ready to pummel him senseless... something the Marine was going to prevent. "Sorry to interrupt, but I've got a bone to pick with you." He raised the rifle, but as the Sharpclaw turned to face the new threat Tricky bolted. Smart, but that would make things a hell of a lot more difficult.

"Hey, stay here! I'm getting you out of this mess!" He called out to the retreating Earthwalker, although in doing so the Sharpclaw gained the upper hand. One of them rushed forward, knocking the M16 out of his hands with a swipe of his club. As the Marine struggled to snatch his M1911 out of its holster it slammed its weapon on his chest, knocking him to the round. Armor or no, it _hurt._

Trying to regain is breath for the second time in the past few minutes, he saw the two jump on some sort of hovering motorcycle contraptions... hoverbikes would be a better word. One of them was still sitting there; obviously the Sharpclaw he had beaned with the rifle wouldn't be needing it. "Christ... I did _not_ have this in mind when I re-upped!" Brian sprinted for the bike, scooping up and slinging the M16. Hopping on it, he fervently hoped he would be able to drive the damn thing.

The handgrips were similar to a motorcycle's, but there were also foot pedals. Pressing one of them inched the bike forward, so he decided to use the lead foot treatment. The bike rocketed forward, easily the equal to a high-powered crotch rocket. He laid on it, the bike taking a short trip through a tunnel to emerge back out into the open... a sloping ski run that had long since been eroded into the side of the mountain.

Brian could see the Sharpclaw ahead of him, pushing their bikes at a similar pace. He had no idea how Tricky could have outrun them at that speed, but he had to catch up. Dodging several uprooted trees and boulders, he kept at an almost insane pace.. forcing the thought of what would happen if he crashed out of his mind.

The snow flew by as he gained on the Sharpclaw. Two hundred yards closed to half that distance in less than fifteen seconds. Even with his combat gear he was lighter and, well, he had always taken risks like this. However, one of his opponents looked behind, spotting the solitary human racing towards them. It pulled out something from the side of the vehicle and tossed it at him, all the while sporting what looked to be an evil grin.

Brian grit his teeth as he realized that the damn thing had lobbed a grenade at him. Banking the hoverbike to the left, he barely skirted around it as it went off. The controls tried to wrest free of his grasp, but he kept it on course... feeling the heat of the bomb going off as well as the patter of debris on his clothing. "Okay, asshole!" he shouted. "Want to play it rough?"His right hand made itself busy by pulling out the .45.

The Sharpclaw reached for another bomb, although the Marine was more than ready. He leveled the pistol at the pike and pulled the trigger, the Colt's roar drowned out by the bikes and the wind. Still, he hit the Sharpclaw and watched it fall to the ground with the bike.. in a furry of snow, limbs, and groaning metal. Brian passed the fallen bike and rider as if it were standing still.

The bike passed through a short tunnel, letting Brian see the bright blue exhaust of his other opponent. Gritting his teeth in determination, he pushed the pedal as far as it would go; the bike responded by rushing up to meet the second Sharpclaw.

Firing on a moving target while on another moving target was difficult. The first one he shot had been a _very_ lucky hit; the second was to prove more difficult. The Colt blasted a few more times, the heavy .45 slugs punching into either the ground or the surrounding trees. "Fuck!" he hissed. There were nine rounds in the gun, owing to the fact he used eight-round extended magazines. Reloading on a bike at this speed would be suicide. If he ran dry, he ran dry. His next shot _had_ to strike home.

The Sharpclaw growled at his human pursuer, reaching into a storage compartment on the bike and lobbing another bomb at him. Brian junked the bike to the right, managing to avoid the eplosive device before it blew. Steering with a gun in one hand was difficult, and the bike dangerously swerved to the left and to the right.

The Sharpclaw grabbed at another bomb, and Brian saw his opening. Mashing down on the accelerator, his bike surged forward at the distracted Sharpclaw... he was assuming the lizard-man would be focused on keeping the bike straight. The human pointed the pistol at his opponent and started fulling the trigger, the M1911 thundering its report into the freezing wind. The Sharpclaw pitched from the bike as it rolled to the side, and Brian dodged it.

However, the Marine did not take into account the sheer dropoff he was hurtling towards... before he even had a chance to slam on the brakes the hoverbike had taken off into the wild blue yonder. Brian hated heights, and he _hated_ falling. The feeling made him freak out, and he simply shut down as he plummeted.

The shock of hot water hit him in the face... it was like being dunked into a bathtub. The possibility of getting wet out in the frozen wastes never crossed his mind, but that was even worse than falling. Being wrapped in freezing clothing wasn't going to be fun, so the Marine pushed himself to shore.

It would be cold as hell, but the layer of Under Armour he wore underneath his fatigues was water resistant and would dry much more quickly than the soaked cotton battle dress. Brian pulled the sodden battle dress off, bunching it up as best he could and tying them down to his utility belt. The chill instantly made itself known through the thin, somewhat wet fabric, and he looked like a cut-rate superhero. "Christ. Going to freeze my ass off here." he muttered.

Brian had been so intent on pulling the soaking wet fatigues off that he didn't notice the young Earthwalker standing just a couple of yards away. Apparently he had noticed the Marine's use of Lylatian, so he responded in kind. "You better be glad that was a hot spring... if it wasn't you'd be an icicle by now!"

The human was in no mood for humor. "Listen, kid. Over the past twenty-four hours I have been shot at, actually _shot_, had an orbital weapon used against me, shot _again_, almost had my head chopped off, got an arty strike called in on me... and now I fell off a damn cliff." He turned to the Earthwalker and fixed him with a glare. "I'm here to save your ass, but if you push me over the brink, I swear to God I'll..."

The young dinosaur fixed him with a stubborn glare of his own. "My dad's the King Earthwalker, pal... if you hurt me he'll pound you flat!" He was pretty small; maybe about the same size as an average dog... but Brian admitted he had some guts.

He shook off his armor as best he could and put it on, hoping it wouldn't freeze to him. His M16 survived in fairly good shape, at least... but where was his M1911? It wasn't in its holster, and he glanced around. Finally, he found it laying next to the hot spring; he must have thrown it while he was on the bike. "Listen." he growled as he reloaded and placed the handgun back in its holster. "I'm just trying to get your butt back home. Your 'ol lady asked us to do it, and I'm just the one who drew the shortest straw.

The Earthwalker moved closer, just a little. "You're going to take me back to my mom? Is she okay?"

"Yeah, yeah... she is." Brian stood up, feeling the chill instantly penetrate the thin layer he had on. This, frankly, was going to suck. At least Krystal was going to have an easier time of it, he hoped... nothing quite like freezing your ass off when you've been used to hundred-plus degree temps for the past year. "Let's just get a move on _before_ my toes start falling off." Without any further preamble the Marine took off down the only path out of the semi-cavern they were in; a sloping, snow-packed path that led to his right.

The rapid-fire crunching of snow behind him indicated the Earthwalker was following behind him. Surprisingly, the dinosaur tried to keep an active conversation going. "So... what are you? Who are you? How come you don't got scales or fur?" He kept close pace with Brian, who was trudging through the snow with his arms crossed over his body.

"Brian Lancing... Sergeant, United States Marine Corps. I'm a human, and the reason I don't have fur or scales is that I don't, okay?" He was still pretty annoyed, but the fact that he was walking through a freezing wasteland wearing the equivalent of long underwear wasn't helping things. "Just... hush up, alright? I'm taking your butt back to your mom, and then my friend and I are going to try to get this damn planet back together." He paused for a minute, then chuckled to himself. "Really saving a planet. I'd love to bring _that_ up to Al Gore at a cocktail party."

The reference to politics went way over Tricky's head, but pressing his luck was something he did often. He was pretty bold and probably a little spoiled, but he should keep his mysterious rescuer talking. "I'm Trujadowoki, Prince of the Earthwalkers. Everyone calls me Tricky. You're... going to save our world? Cool! How are you gonna do it?"

Brian sighed... he wasn't going to be able to shut the kid up; might as well get used to it. "My friend, Krystal... she would know more about it than I would. I'm not exactly fluent in the native language." It was strange that he was referring to her as a friend already, but... what else could she be? Comrade? Fellow soldier? It didn't fit. She really _wanted_ to gain his trust, and nothing about her seemed to tell him she was going to drive a knife into his back. There was a huge difference in trusting your life to someone because you _had_ to, and displaying that level of trust because they were willing to do the same.

"Then, where's your friend? They're not out here." Tricky dashed forward a little bit, obviously bored at the slower pace Brian was trudging. "Leave you alone to get me or something?"

"She's at some... castle or something. Krakatoa palace or something like that? She said something about having to rescue some sort of ghost there... way too paranormal for my blood." For some reason it was getting warmer... a little strange for the fact they were walking through a frozen mountain pass, surrounded on all sides by tall, jagged rock walls.

"You mean... Krazoa Palace? That's a very dangerous place, especially if General Scales plans on being there." Tricky slowed down a bit, thinking a little. "there are many guardian beasts there... they don't bother us Earthwalkers, but if anyone else comes walking in... _smack!_ Nasty things, too. It's not easy for us Saurians to get there, too... the Warpstone can't transport us. I hope your friend makes it out of there okay... it's very dangerous."

Brian absorbed the information from the rambling young Earthwalker. It was a little disconcerting, but Krystal looked like the type that could handle herself. Plus, she was armed with an M4... he hadn't seen anything here that laughed at a 5.56mm round. He stopped short as they rounded a bend... and found their path blocked off. The obstruction was a river of lava boiling beneath them. That was why it was almost tolerable here. "Uhm... that's going to be a problem." the Marine surmised. The gap they had to cross was nearly twenty feet in length; the flowing lava raged nearly ten feet below the end of the path.

Tricky glanced down and blinked at the river of lava. "There should be a bridge around here, I think. While glancing around he spotted a path darting through the rock wall, and started for it. "C'mon... I think we can find something here."

Left with no other choice, Brian followed the Earthwalker into a small 'cove' of sorts, still surrounded by rock walls. A cave entrance beckoned to them, yet it was covered up by some sort of portcullis. No levers were around to pull to open it, either. "Ah, crap. What's going to happen now?"

Tricky was sniffing around, poking and prodding at the ground. "I'm smelling something... here!" The Earthwalker started digging around in the snow... after about a minute of frantic work he uncovered a recessed platform. With what counted as a grin he waltzed onto it, his weight pushing the platform deeper into the ground.

The portcullis ground open on rusty tracks, and the Marine offered a grin to Tricky. "Good work, kid. Stay right there... I'm going to poke around here a bit." Unslinging his M16 as a precaution, he went into the small cave.

There was a lever embedded into the rock wall... obviously to do something fairly important. Also, a small collection of things were scattered around; a few softball-sized jewels, and a basketball-sized glowing, buzzing orb. He had no damn idea what to do with them, but if they were locked away like this... they were obviously useful. It took a bit of stuffing, but he managed to secure the jewels into the pockets of his fatigues. The orb was a but more difficult. Picking it up produced an intense sensation of static electricity; all of his hair stood on end. Tying it up in his shirt took care of the issue of transporting it, though.

As an afterthought he reached for the lever, half-expecting the action to pull the portcullis shut again. He jumped at the sound of grinding machinery; leaping out of the cave to find out it wasn't the portcullis making the noises. Tricky blinked at him, chuckling and shaking his head. "Now, you really _are_ jumpy."

"Yeah, yeah, yuk it up." The freezing Marine responded. "Now, let's see what we managed to get done, other than collect a few knick-knacks." Dusk had just about fallen, and he knew that it would just get colder as time drew on... they had to pick up the pace. Exiting the little 'cove,' the two found out exactly what that lever had done. A large chunk of rock had risen from the lava, providing enough solid ground for them to leap across the river of molten rock. Brian would have bet they had that little obstacle set up for anyone trying to come up the pass to rescue Tricky.

"Alright, here's the deal." He glanced long and hard at the platform that had risen. "I'm going to carry you and jump over this crap... I'm not weighed down by a whole lot so I should be just fine." With no further preamble he picked Tricky up... for his size he weighed quite a bit.

The Earthwalker squirmed a bit. "Hey, what are you doing!?" He had no time to react as Brian took a running start and jumped across the gap. Losing no steam, he rushed forward and took another leap... landing onto solid, non-dangerous ground. Tricky was set down almost immediately, grumbling up at the human. "I could have done that!"

"You're a little too high priority to risk falling into that kind of hot water." Brian shrugged and simply pressed on; the burst of warmth from the lava was invigorating. The heat wouldn't last for long, and it was time to get going. "Just get your butt in gear. I'm practically naked here. Can't fire a gun if my fingers fall off."

"A... gun? What's that?" As they walked down another sloping path, Tricky was once again trying to start conversation.

"If we run into any of those Sharpclaw assholes, you'll find out." the Marine responded, patting the plastic stock of the M16. This whole turn of events, well, kind of pissed him off. Deep down inside, he itched for a fight; yearned for taking a few more of those bastards out.

As if some god with a twisted sense of humor was listening to his thoughts, Brian got his wish. As they trudged along, he saw the snow right in front of him shift. Before he could even step back it was on him; some sort of snake-like beast shot out of the ground, jaws snapping towards his chest.

The body armor he wore was the only thing that saved him; a powerful, crushing set of jaws trying to burrow through material that was designed to stop a barrage of automatic weapons fire. Training automatically took over... Brian's hand shot for the M16. While the sling prevented him from properly using the rifle, he managed to thrust the barrel forward into the snake's length. His thumb flicked the selector to burst fire, and he pegged the trigger.

Tricky yelped and jumped back as the human's weapon roared its ear-splitting retort. The unknown enemy seemed to tear up. The weapon roared once more and the snake-thing collapsed onto the snow; red blood and gore soaking into the snow. Brian promptly fell backwards, out of breath and panting.

"What the hell... was that... thing!?" the Marine gasped, keeping the M16 ready in his hand. He quite well got his wish, but that particular encounter was definitely _not_ what he had in mind. The Marine pushed himself out of the snow, cursing the fact that he was now soaked a bit from the waist down. Even a soft breeze made it damn _cold_. So much for retaining body heat.

Tricky just looked on in awe as he followed Brian, his eyes rooted on the rifle he was keeping firmly in his hands. "You almost cut 'em in half!" he exclaimed. "Can I have one?"

The mental image of Triceratops walking around with assault rifles mounted on their backs was pretty funny. "As much as I'd like to have a fireteam around here, I don't think you're really... able to shoot one of these." At Tricky's disappointed look, he simply shook his head. "Sorry, kid. Just leave any hostiles to me."

The path widened abruptly, and they soon found themselves on a ledge overlooking a large valley. It was smaller than the Thorntail Hollow place that Tricky called his temporary home, but not by too much. Several large beasts milled about, seemingly herded into a small portion of the valley by several Sharpclaw. "There's a lot of them, Brian." Tricky exclaimed. "What do we do now?"

The human took the time to examine things more closely. The adversaries were about two hundred yards away and mingling with the... woolly mammoths, were they? Most were armed with clubs, spears and axes... but one of them was armed with one of those muskets. "Little too far to be shooting into a mixed crowd. Wish I had another Marine or even Krystal running as backup. If I had someone to run down there and draw their fire, I could play sniper..."

As he ran through several scenarios in his mind, he heard the crunching of snow off to his right. Tricky had heard him, and was dashing down the sharply curving path towards the ground. "Shit! Get back here, dammit!" It was too late; the young Earthwalker was already most of the way down, and a few of the Sharpclaw were pointing at him, waving excitedly to their comrades. His hand was now forced.

Even though he preferred the M14 for long-range shooting, Brian qualified expert with the M16 during boot camp. He was extremely proficient with the weapon, and that familiarity was going to play a critical role for what he was about to do. Snapping the rifle into his shoulder, he chose his targets. The first was the Sharpclaw with the musket-styled firearm. He knew nothing about the weapon's capabilities, but it posed the most threat to him or Tricky. The sights fell on the lizard-man, who was trying to bring the musket to bear on the Earthwalker.

The Sharpclaw never made it. The M16 cracked its report into the valley, and its target fell to the ground. The marine had no time to look over his kill; he simply switched targets and fired. Starting with the most accessible Sharpclaw, Brian continued to fire. _'Single shots. Take your time to aim. Make every hit count...'_ he kept under control, forcing out the discomfort of the freezing wind and soaked clothing. All that mattered was the sights in front of him and the squeeze of the trigger.

Tricky soon found himself running for his life, almost instantly regretting his decision to distract the Sharpclaw. He could hear the human's 'gun' fire into the valley, but the number of Sharpclaw running after him with brandished weapons did not cease. He dashed between rocks and trees; anything to keep them from coming.

One of them caught up to him, lifting his axe for a fatal strike. However, a loud _smack_ sounded from behind him, followed by the distant crack of the gun. The Sharpclaw fell then; a small round hole in its back. Several other cracks followed, and the Earthwalker found himself surrounded by the bodies of several of them. From the ridge, Brian stood up, stumbling down the path as quickly as he could.

As the Marine reached the bottom, he reloaded the rifle. The magazine was nearly spent; he was using far too much ammo for simple targets like this. That, and he wasn't all that happy with Tricky rushing off to draw their attention. As the young dinosaur reached him, Brian let him have it. "Christ! What were you thinking? Wait, I know! You _weren't_ thinking when you ran out like that! I could have missed one and shot you!"

The Earthwalker whimpered and stepped back a bit. "Sheesh, I was only trying to help!" Even that explanation wasn't enough to stop the human, who was about to give his old drill sergeant a run for his money. "Breaking off from me is _not_ an option, kid! I'm _supposed_ to bring you back home safe and sound... _not_ in pieces! I already _told_ you to leave the soldiering to _me_!"

The Marine-style dressing down had drawn the attention of one of the woolly mammoths, who barged up to the two; apparently unafraid of the one who was causing all the noise and dead Sharpclaw. Brian was cut off before delivering another tirade by the booming voice; as the mammoth was speaking in Saurian, he had no idea what it was saying. _"Is this... creature bothering you, brave Prince?" _it asked, promptly preparing to attack.

Tricky looked up to the mammoth. _"No. He's angry, but... I think he's got his reasons. He hasn't had a good day, and he's just trying to get me back to Thorntail Hollow._" Maybe that would calm his nerves.

Brian stood stock still, facing the tall creature that had intruded. Knowing full well that might makes right, he decided to back off a few steps. Along with the fully-grown Earthwalkers, he didn't want to mess with those mammoths unless he had the Humvee... and its mounted .50-cal. An M16 would probably only piss it off.

_"If you put it that way... thank you for getting rid of those Sharpclaw... both of you, I guess. If you are looking for the way out of Ice Mountain, simply enter that cave over there."_ The Snowhorn pointed with his trunk, towards a massive archway cut into one of the rock walls. _"That will lead you right back to the Hollow. Tell your mother that we need her help; our Gatekeeper is trapped here._"

_"We will. Don't worry."_ Tricky turned to Brian, shaking his head in exasperation. "If you're done yelling at me, then let's get out of here. Maybe you'll be nicer once you warm up... I hope." Not even allowing the Marine to respond, he dashed off for the cavern entrance.

With a sigh, the human decided to follow. "I wonder if Congress will make a 'putting up with backtalking alien dinosaurs' medal for me if I ever get back." Grumbling, he entered the cavern, where Tricky was bounding down a winding hallway. As he followed the dinosaur down the twisting, meandering cavern path, he noticed that it was actually getting warmer. Their job in the frozen wastelands was done.

--

It took them nearly an hour to traverse through the underground complex. It was designed as a 'highway' of sorts, moving raw materials from the mines in Ice Mountain to the more easily accessed Thorntail Hollow. By the end of the trip, Brian was feeling a bit better; at least he was no longer freezing his ass off.

Once they emerged from the cave leading back to his starting point, it was well into the night. Most of the Thorntail were asleep, even though the stench of burned vegetation still lingered in the air. The Humvee sat where he had parked it, unmolested save for one of the doors still being open.

Tricky looked towards the temple-like building near the other end of the valley. "My ma's going to be worried. I'm getting back to her. I know I might have been a pain, but thanks!" As he had so many times before, the young Earthwalker dashed off... thankfuly he was in a safe place, and Brian didn't have to worry about it.

"Good riddance." He breathed a sigh of relief as he made his way over to the Humvee. The fact he was trudging towards the vehicle clad only in a set of glorified long underwear was pretty embarrassing... Krystal was going to have a field day. Yet, as he reached the vehicle... there was no sign of her around. At all. "Looks like I made it early, then." With a huff, he set himself to the task of fixing the cargo area back up.

The Marines who used the Humvee before him had definitely come loaded. The M4 he had given Krystal wasn't the only piece of hardware they were trying to hide. Another M4 lay in the pile; that one equipped with an M203 underbarrel grenade launcher. A Remington 870 pump-action shotgun rounded out the mix, along with several 40mm grenades and two satchels filled with shotgun shells. These were obviously unauthorized weapons, and Colonel Hammond would have been dutybound to court-marshal anyone who had obtained this amount of non-kosher firepower.

After cleaning up and checking the new weaponry, Brian opened his pack. Krystal took the only set of fatigues that were remotely near his size, so he was stuck with a change of 'city clothes' he always brought along. A set of decent civilian threads was a decent barter gift as well as something to change into just in case the shit hit the fan. Within moments he was dressed in a simple pair of bluejeans and a grey T-shirt... looking nothing like the armed and equipped soldier he was mere moments ago.

A flash of light from behind startled him. His hand closed around the nearest weapon he could find, the Remington. Spinning the scattergun around, he came face to face with... whatever the hell it was.

It looked like an alien. Not a Sharpclaw, Earthwalker, or Cerinian; this one looked like it belonged on the cover of _Weekly World News_. The only reason the robed flying saucer pilot hadn't eaten a load of double-aught was the fact that for some reason, Brian _knew_ it wasn't here to cause any harm. "What in the hell..."

_"I am far removed from your concepts of Heaven and Hell, Brian Lancing."_ The 'alien' was speaking into this mind. That was freaky, but if it had the power to do that, he didn't have _any_ power to do anything about it. _"I am a Krazoa Spirit. Your companion, Krystal of Cerinia, released me from my prison. However, in trying to escape from our home... she was gravely injured."_

Brian spat... this day was becoming closer and closer to the sacred state known as FUBAR. The voice still spoke in his mind as if it were a direct line to God. _"She needs your help. Please, travel to Krazoa Palace before her time runs out. She is depending on you... for her life."_


	8. 7: The Spirit World

**Notes: Well, another while for this one to come out, considering I had this chapter half-done by the time I even started on the last one. Life issues take their toll, I'm afraid. Anyway... got through this one fine, and there will be more down the pipe. Just distracted, that's all.**

**Once again, I'm a little too tired to really answer reviews, but I do read 'em. However, there _will_ be a purpose for the amount of weapons Brian has with him... one of which will be introduced at the end of this chapter. Guns aren't indestructible, I'll put it that way. :P I'm also trying to paint Krystal as capable and cunning, like she really should have been in the game... just getting a little overwhelmed by what happens at the end. I do, however, have mental visions of some small space battles happening in the near future. So, please R/R like you usually do... lemme know what ya think.**

Chapter 7: The Spirit World.

The colors and disorienting spinning subsided, and Krystal was now standing somewhere.. outside. The first thing she noticed was that it was raining; huge drops of it pelting her fur as if she had emerged into a great storm... which she had. The rain soaked into her fur as well as the clothing she had taken from the Humvee... thankfully the human stuff was at least a little water resistant. A little bit of worry crossed her mind at the rifle she carried getting wet, but Brian hadn't mentioned anything about keeping it out of the elements. She decided to concentrate on her surroundings, but a tug at her mind interrupted her.

The voice of the Warpstone spoke to her... it too was capable of telepathic communication. _"I cannae keep this link with you inside the Palace. If you run intae something you cannae handle, run bac' outside. I cannae warp ye from inside the building... too much of a risk for ye tae be hurt."_ Krystal nodded and gave the Warpstone a quick expression of thanks, but she did have a job to do. Her mind freed, she glanced at the oddly familiar architecture.

The building looked so similar to a Spirit Monument on Cerinia that she had to blink to make sure she wasn't experiencing a vision. The grayish stone and dome-topped turrets provided an eerie similarity to the Monuments that used to stand on her homeworld. There were subtle differences in both the architecture and the layout, but seeing the Palace brought back memories of home. Krystal had to push those aside; she couldn't let bittersweet memories get in the way.

The vixen glanced around the platform she was on. There had obviously been some sort of battle here; black scorch marks lined the area as well as a few areas that blood hadn't been completely washed away by the rain. Scales _had_ gotten here before she did, then. This unnerved her, but she needed to press on. Any Earthwalker she came across would need her help.

Krystal peered around with her senses, managing to make out a few thought patterns. Some strange, lingering presence made it slightly difficult to trace them, but the fact that they _weren't_ sentient made her a little nervous. A chittering sound echoed from the stone, and she then came face to face with her first adversaries.

Two bulbous forms drifted in the air, propelled by the magical energies which sustained them. Krystal knew what these were. Wraiths. They were uncommon beasts on Cerinia, but that did not make them any less dangerous. The creatures had masses of tentacles underneath their bodies, which they used to ensnare, poison, and then consume their victims. All young Cerinians were told tales of the Wraiths. Survivors of their attacks told of the painful, paralyzing venom they produced, and described the screams of unfortunate comrades that had been taken by one.

Krystal wasn't going to be taken... was not going to be food for a beast that should not be on Sauria. She briefly thought about testing the rifle against them but decided not to; she pulled out her staff and extended it in her paws. Yet as she was going to expend her staff's magical reserves against the Wraiths, something jumped out at her out of the corner of her eye.

A set of barrels lay to her right, stacked there for some sort of purpose. The looked heavy, and if she could hit one with a well-placed throw it might knock it down. That was their weak point; if they were knocked to the ground they could not get back up. She wouldn't have to expend her finite staff energy or the equally finite ammunition she had for Brian's rifle, either.

The chittering Wraiths cut her investigation short. The beasts started to converge on her, and she had to act before she suffered a painful death. Gritting her teeth, Krystal dropped her staff grabbed one of the barrels. It was quite heavy and full of some sort of liquid, and it was about all she could do to toss it in the general direction of her enemies.

The barrel slammed into the ground right in front of the beasts... and exploded. The blast deafened her as well as produced momentary blindness with a flash of orange light. The shock wave came and knocked her off her feet, sending her to the ground as if the hand of Melos had pushed her. A muffled groan came from her lips as the wind was knocked out of her, and she struggled to get up.

The Wraiths had been consumed by the explosion; the translucent pink material that made up their bodies splattered around the platform. The rain had already started the work of washing it away, but the sight of the beasts' gore was still sickening to her.

Krystal sat up, trying to regain her breath. She was hurt, cold, soaking wet... and in no shape to repeat that performance. Yet, she also had a job to do. The remainder of the stack of barrels would at least be another line of defense, at least if she could get out of the explosion's range next time. She picked her staff back up and looked down to the right; seeing that there was a set of stairs leading to what looked to be an entrance to the Palace. It was the logical way to go.

As she padded down the stairs the vixen noticed something was amiss. Something had happened; more than likely a massive explosion. Pillars and columns were strewn all around and the massive double doors leading in were blocked off by debris. This didn't look good. Krystal also noticed the body of an Earthwalker in front of the rubble; her heart went cold when she saw what had happened. The poor dinosaur had been trying to escape when whatever had caused the damage hit the building. She forced back tears and continued forward, looking at the rubble.

There was a lot of debris but it was loosely packed; her staff should be able to take care of it. Taking a deep breath she placed it against the ground... sending the mental command to perform a ground quake.

The staff pulsed in her hands, sending out a large shockwave. The entire building trembled imperceptibly as the Cerinian instrument did its work, sending chunks of marble and stone all around. The doors had been blasted off their hinges earlier, and the staff had made an opening large enough for her to crawl in... at the cost of a good chunk of its energy.

Krystal squeezed into the Palace, noting that while its exterior looked like a Spirit Monument, its interior was completely different. A hallway led off to the right, constructed of ruddy red stone; torches lined the walls. Another soft chittering noise echoing off the walls announced the presence of another Wraith. She wasn't about to grab another explosive barrel, so it was either her staff or the rifle. Knowing that the ground quake had taken almost a quarter of her staff's reserves, she opted for the M4.

Pulling the human weapon off her back, Krystal recalled Brian's lesson. Her thumb flicked the selector switch to the fire position and she tucked it against her shoulder. Knowing that Brian's pistol had not been the easiest to shoot, she steeled herself for its kick while waiting for the creature to make its appearance.

She didn't have to wait long. Hearing the sound of prey, the Wraith rounded a corner. It would ensnare its next meal, which would sate it for quite some time. Quivering in anticipation, its sensory organs detected heat ahead... a stationary yet live object. This was akin to being served a steak on a silver platter.

Krystal grit her teeth as she pulled the M4's trigger. Its sharp, horrendously loud _crack_ bounced off the nearby walls, sending a spike of pain into her sensitive ears. However, the recoil was almost nonexistent and she was still sighted on the Wraith. The creature was trying to keep up off the floor, translucent pink fluid dripping from the hole she had blown clean through it... but it still kept drifting toward her. Her finger tensed on the weapon's trigger again, and the M4 barked its ear-splitting report into the Palace once more.

This time the Wraith dropped to the ground while writhing and wriggling its body like a dying wasp, trying to ensnare its prey with its death throes. Tentacles loaded with lethal neurotoxins lashed out at Krystal, who wisely jumped back with a surprised gasp. The Wraith twitched for a few moments and then became still... causing the vixen to breathe a sigh of relief. She had never dreamed of coming across a Wraith... let alone besting three of them.

She cautiously crept forward, hearing the gentle whoosh of a flame around a corner. The vixen turned to face an obvious intruder deterrent... a set of flame jets set into the hallway ahead of her. They were of various heights and remained constantly on. Her goal, a large room just past the sloping hall, beckoned. There had to be a way to get past these.

An idea came to Krystal's mind, and she gave a wry smirk to the challenge ahead of her. The carbine was exchanged for her staff once more. While the human weapon packed a punch as well as a sonic assault, the traditional Guardian weapon could do so much more than punch holes through an enemy. Her thoughts switched the staff to its ice blast mode, smiling as she saw its tip starting to cover itself with frost.

With a grin she pointed the staff to the source of the flame; a well-scorched grate set into the wall. The staff fired a burst of freezing mist, and the flame halted almost immediately. "Brian would be picking his jaw up off the floor if he saw this." The vixen giggled as she set to work, wondering about her new friend and how he was handling the task of saving the Queen's son.

The flame jets were made short work of by her ice blaster... which was much more efficient than the ground quake she had used earlier. Krystal inched forward down the hallway, snuffing any flame she saw like a maverick firefighter. Once she reached the room at the end, she paused... her ears perking at the familiarity of the place.

The large chamber she found herself in seemed to be some sort of temple. Arched ceilings nearly one hundred feet tall made her feel tiny compared to it... a doorway off to her left was nearly that entire height. The temple was meant to accommodate some very _big_ creatures. The floors were comprised of some sort of black marble, and crimson wall hangings extended nearly floor to ceiling. This was a place of great importance to someone, and it looked eerily similar to a Spirit Monument.

To her right, opposite the doorway, sat a statue that reached the entire height of the temple chamber. It was of an impossibly tall, robed figure with strange, alien facial features. Glowing sapphire eyes and a jewel sitting above them completed the ensemble. She noticed that the placement of the jewel was almost identical to the circlet she wore... another strange coincidence.

"Melos knows how Sauria has so many parallels with Cerinia..." Krystal mused, turning towards the exit and what lay beyond. Her mind was occupied with what had been happening... the entire Palace reeked of energy. The fact her telepathic abilities seemed sluggish and unresponsive was also alarming... the vixen would have to find her own way without their help. That wasn't something she liked to think about, but she crept into the next chamber.

The place was gilt in much the same décor, black marble floors and tapestries. It was about as large as the other room, but there was actually someone present. A large Earthwalker lay on the floor, blood staining the black marble underneath. Krystal winced as she rushed up to him; a multitude of slashes and stab wounds marred his frame. Her abilities were truly being suppressed by the strange presence; she should have felt the Earthwalker's thought patterns as soon as she stepped inside the Palace.

She knelt down and placed a paw on the mortally wounded dinosaur's snout. "A...are you okay?" she ventured. "Please... I will do anything I can to help." At the very least she could use her calming techniques to ease its pain; she was aware that the Earthwalker's injuries were too severe to be treated. This caused a pang of sorrow to build from within, She had sworn to protect the lives of others, and thus far she hadn't been all that successful.

"Save... your strength, young one." The Earthwalker replied in a strained voice. "The Krazoa... need your help. They are... dying." The Saurian took a few heaving breaths and continued. "General Scales... attacked this sacred Palace... He was looking for the Krazoa... Spirit."

Krystal was about to respond but the Saurian was determined to let her know what was happening, even if it was with his dying breaths. "He did not... obtain it. He has awakened... something evil... in the Palace. Please... take the trials. Obtain the... Krazoa Spirit from the... shrine and take it to the... Collection Jewel. If you do not... the planet will die with them."

"I will do it... I swear to you." A tear formed at the corner of her eye as she sensed the Earthwalker's thought patterns fading away. Once again she recalled Cerinia... she would not let anyone else pass to the Beyond needlessly... not on her watch. The vixen stood up, the fires of determination burning in her emerald eyes as she spotted a small altar tucked away in a nearby alcove. The sheer energy radiating from it, even through the malicious presence she felt all around her, told Krystal that this was where she needed to go. Without a second thought she strode to the platform and stepped upon it... a flash of white light enveloping her as she did so.

When she blinked, she found herself in a completely different place. A tall shaft rose above her to a dizzying height... leading to what looked to be a hallway nearly one hundred feet above her. A sturdy wooden ladder bridged the gap, and there was only one way but up. Taking a deep breath she attacked the ladder, rushing up it with renewed vigor. Whatever evil presence lingered the building did not affect the shrine she was in... she could clearly feel the calming presence of this Krazoa Spirit. It beckoned to her urgently, touching her mind. The sensation was amplified due to her abilities as a Channeler, and considering this was the first time she encountered a spirit of this... power, she was a little nervous.

Krystal pulled herself up into the hallway. It was fairly narrow, but allowed her at least a bit of room to maneuver. She was about to cross a series of grates embedded in the floor, yet at the last moment jets of fire shot upward; the flames almost singed her fur and she had to back away from the intense heat. As suddenly as they appeared the flame jets shut off, and the vixen took her chance; dashing across the grates as quickly as she could. The _whoosh _of flame and the heat on her back told her she had passed one test.

The next one would be a bit more difficult. Several yards down the hallway featured a pit nearly ten feet deep... it would have housed a decent-sized swimming pool had it not been empty. Or, rather... not completely empty. The chittering profile of a Wraith drifted within, its tentacles wiggling around in search for prey... namely the Cerinian vixen who stood above it. This would have been a problem... if she was unarmed.

With a grin she pulled her staff out of her utility belt, once again extending it in her paws, visualizing the fire blaster function in her weapon to do the work. A small amount of heat flared around the staff's business end, signaling it was ready for business... yet a faint pulsing in her paws warned her that its energy reserves were almost depleted.

Taking a deep breath, Krystal fired the blaster. A ball of flame lanced out and smacked into the Wraith, the flames consuming some of its tentacles. Yet the beast kept coming, and the vixen had to leap back in order not to get snagged by its attempts to reach her. It was floating out of the pit, and trying to strike back. Krystal shot it a second time, sending it tumbling down to the floor in a gelatinous mass.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she leaped from the top of the pit; missing the dying Wraith's thrashing body by tucking her body into a roll. The weight of the human rifle threw her off, but not by much. There was a ladder at each end of the pit, and a short climb later she was back into the hallway. There wasn't much farther to go until she made it into the main room of the shrine. It was as big as a Kokli stadium; a Cerinian sport played by scoring goals with a small handball. The room was decorated with huge ornate pillars as well as a moat; it felt serene and calm.

The Krazoa Spirit resided in the middle of the room, a ghostly apparition which looked exactly like the strange statues all over the Palace. The spirit once again beckoned to her, its voice gently caressing her mind with a calm air. _"Do not be afraid, Guardian. Come closer."_

The vixen slowly made her way over to the spirit, looking it over. She decided to actually speak, as it was polite to do so when performing duties as a Channeler. "I have come to the aid of the Earthwalker Tribe, Noble One. What do you wish of me?"

_"You hold much kindness and compassion in your heart, young Guardian. However, the road to saving our planet will be long and fraught with danger. You, however, are not alone... your strange companion has skills you lack, and you have skills he lacks."_

"I understand, Noble One. What must we do to help save Sauria?" She knew spirits usually spoke in cryptic riddles... this one was being surprisingly clear, even with its dodging her questions.

_"The way will be revealed to you in time. For now... learn from each other. Keep each other safe. Since Scales and his band of Sharpclaw took power over the planet, this has become a very dangerous place. United, you and your friend will stand against their threat. Divided... you both shall fall. Prepare yourself, Cerinian."_

The spirit's words were confusing, and a small feeling of nervousness clawed at a deep recess of her mind. _'Divided... you both shall fall.'_ They were separated... would they be in danger? A strange expression planted itself on her features as six tall wicker baskets materialized within the room. The spirit hovered over one of them, its voice pressing into her mind once more. _"This is the Test of Observation. I will hide in one of these baskets, and shall move all of them. If you succeed in finding me three times... I will allow you to escort me to the Palace altar. If you fail... you shall not. Are you prepared?"_

When she nodded, the spirit silently floated into one of the baskets. As if they were possessed, all of the containers silently glided across the floor. Her emerald eyes kept locked onto the one it had chosen like a hawk. When they stopped, she simply strode towards it and lifted the top; the ethereal being floated out, neither giving any sign of encouragement or disapproval.

The process completed twice more, the Cerinian able to keep track of the specified basket even though the Krazoa tried to lose her in a complex dance of twirling wicker. When she selected the correct container for the final time, the spirit hovered before her. _"You have done well. You are worthy of carrying me to the Altar. This may be unpleasant, so be prepared."_

The Krazoa rushed forward at impossible speed, slamming into her chest with what would have been the force of a speeding truck. A brief burst of pain flared throughout her body, and she felt herself leave the ground... a bright light enveloping her sight.

When she blinked, she had returned to the main chamber in the Palace. Krystal cringed when she saw the body of the helpful Earthwalker a second time, although the presence of the Krazoa actually... calmed her thoughts.

As she took a deep breath, the silent spirit residing in her body directed her actions. Her head turned towards a platform similar to the one she had used to teleport to the Krazoa shrine. The spirit was obviously directing her to go there, so she did.

Once she stepped onto the platform, there was no flash of lights, no nauseating sensation of falling as she was teleported somewhere _else_. The platform simply rose upwards like an elevator and a section of the chamber's wall faded away; a secret door into the rest of the Palace, she assumed.

The platform led into a short hallway, branching off at another larger corridor. The strange, malicious presence lingered in her mind... she felt almost blinded by it. Clenching her staff tightly, the vixen strode into the hall.

One end of the hall was blocked off by some sort of rippling force field; the other housed a large, bas-relief statue of a Krazoa. Once again it radiated an immense amount of energy... coming through to her senses even with the strange, evil presence that shrouded everything like a thick, dark cloak.

--

The large, hulking figure stood next to a nearby pillar... biding its time. The furred whelp had actually _recovered_ the Krazoa, and was about to return it to the shrine. The optical camouflage unit that had belonged to a hapless Cornerian trader was on his belt and running... with whatever had befallen the palace doing its strange mental tricks she wouldn't be able to sense him. The cloaked figure grinned. The one he was stalking was one of a few beings in the system who might be able to resurrect the Krazoa God... the one who had spoken to him; the one who would give him power to rule when it was freed.

The Cerinian approached the Krazoa altar and knelt. He was familiar with the ritual; the pain caused by the Krazoa ripping itself from a sentient consciousness wasn't pleasant, and would give him time to make sure she was going to be placed inside the Collection Jewel. Whenever all the Krazoa Spirits were gathered, they would unwittingly consume her. She would die in the process, but her attempts to channel the Krazoa to get out of her plight would only cause them to free their banished God.

There was a brief moan of pain, and the Krazoa was freed... flowing into the altar just like he knew it would. The Krazoa carving on the wall began to react; the eyes and mouth of the statue opening and firing a large, purple beam toward the Jewel. This was his chance, and he had to act. Swiftly he popped out from cover, but the Cerinian somehow sensed him. She pulled out the first thing she could reach; a strange-looking weapon he had never seen before.

The cloaked figure made a grab for her throat with his right hand... the only one he had. She countered with a vicious swat to the blurry appendage, knocking it out of the way. With the hand knocked out of the way, the Cerinian female used it in its intended manner. The weapon's report rattled the chamber, and the figure felt pain shoot up and down his thigh. The optical generator was hit by whatever the weapon had shot, shorting it out in a flurry of sparks. The pain enraged him; General Scales was now _pissed_.

"You insolent _bitch_!" he roared. The leader of the Sharpclaw tribe had one major weakness.. his temper was very short and his patience was non-existent. Even though the being that shot him was the linchpin to his plans, what she had done had hurt. And, as a result, she was going to pay. With a growl that most sentient beings couldn't reproduce, he swiped at her with his left arm, and the wickedly curved blades that were mounted on the stump of his wrist were directed at cutting her in half.

The only thing that saved her from getting cut in half was the alien weapon; she had thrust it up to block the blow. The rifle physically bent and cracked under the sheer amount of force Scales put into the strike. Even though the firearm blocked it, it was sent flying out of her paws... and the blades continued. The familiar sensation of his armblades sinking into soft, unprotected flesh greeted the Sharpclaw general, and the cry of agony that was ripped from his opponent was even more satisfying.

As he withdrew the blades, he noticed that they had only sunk in a few inches; the Cerinian sporting two profusely bleeding gashes down her side. She fell to the ground, her paws scrabbling for something else hanging at her waist.

"Still struggling? Here, let me help that!" Scales tried to grab her once more... bleeding or not, his window of opportunity with the collection beam was diminishing. However, she had other plans... a staff of some sort extended in her paws, a faint blue energy shield stopping his hand as it tried to close in on her. With another growl he delivered a backhand swipe, but the shield actually pushed him away... sending the Sharpclaw chief to the ground.

The Cerinian used this time to push to her feet, her expression rife with pain. She coughed, not noticing the little trickle of blood that flowed from her lips as she did so. "I know... what you're trying to do." she rasped, backing away from Scales. As he got up, she picked up speed... holding her staff in front of her.

"You will not get far." Scales growled, starting after her. She continued to back up, out of the hallway and onto a large balcony that encircled the chamber the Collection Jewel was housed in. With a bit of dismay he noticed that the jewel had already been powered, and was levitating towards the roof of the Palace... one Krazoa spirit had already been stored.

"I... might not." the Cerinian reached the end of the balcony... the floor below as at least two hundred feet down. Fear filled her heart, but if she had to in order to keep the monster's paws off of her, she would. "But... you won't use... me for your purposes... either." She coughed again, more blood flowing from her muzzle. An expression of dread crossed her features as she saw the tall beast closing in on her... all nine feet of angry Sharpclaw. She had no choice. It was either do it, or die along with Sauria. Closing her eyes, she took a step backward into empty space.

"Damn it!" Scales roared as the Cerinian simply stepped off the balcony. He was still in the hallway, and it took him a few seconds to reach the edge. Peering down he saw the form of the furred alien on the bottom of the massive chamber, sprawled and unmoving. It took serious resolve to kill oneself in such a manner... and he was now back to square one. Growling and cursing in his native tongue, the Sharpclaw leader turned around and left the dead Cerinian to her final fate.

--

Krystal's body lay at the bottom of the chamber, her paw still weakly grasping onto her staff. The force of the fall would have been easily enough to kill her, but the last of the staff's reserves gave her just enough of a shield to survive. She wasn't quite knocked unconscious, but she was in enough of a daze to just lay there. The pain of the wounds the Sharpclaw chief started to numb, and an unsettling feeling of cold closed in. When she coughed again, the unmistakable taste of blood washed over her tongue... she was seriously hurt.

The darkness washed over her before she had a chance to do anything... her already stressed body shutting down, frantically trying to heal itself before it was too late.


	9. 8: Extraction

**Notes: Yes.... very long time and no update. I do apologize for that. Life issues took priority, but let's just say those have smoothed out so I'll be spending more time in front of a blank screen soon. There are a few stumbling blocks in this one, but hopefully they've been smoothed over. I do have a 'filler' chapter ready I'm debating on posting soon, but time will tell if I deem it's appropriate. **

**Once again, major, major _major_ thanks to JyrFalcon345 for his help in this chapter. I had stumbled onto some extreme writer's block, and that's one of the reasons why I had sidelined this for this long. He's given me some ideas not just for this chapter but for the next few, and that means I'll be returning at a more regular pace. Be sure to thank him by reading his fic, _Unholy Angel_, and sending some reviews his way. It'd be greatly appreciated from both our parts.**

Chapter 8: Extraction.

The rain came in a torrent, soaking Brian as he blinked away the nausea of being teleported yet again. He would probably never get used to that, even though he was probably the only human being to have actually undergone the process. However, that was not the Marine was here for... his friend needed help, and needed it badly.

The human glanced around, trying to blink away the queasy feeling that seemed to accompany the Warpstone's teleportation powers. It was all unfamiliar to him, and he would as soon rather not think about it. He had to concentrate on where he was and what he was doing... namely pulling Krystal's fat out of the fire.

He had come loaded for this, and a little better outfitted than he had been on that damned mountain. His M14 was in his hands, primed and ready. He had brought along the M9 as well as his grandpa's Colt, and the Remington was slung on his back... sharing space with his combat pack.

While it was a full-sized hunting piece and a little heavy, the Remington would prove invaluable inside a building. He also had a satchel full of shotgun shells attached to his belt... once again it was heavy, but he was going to need every bit of ammo he could scrape up.

Brian was definitely on some sort of platform over a seemingly bottomless pit. The platform looked large enough to land a Blackhawk helicopter on, and judging by the tracks of mud all around him looked to have seen some recent use. Past the platform was long 'bridge' of sorts, stretching for about two hundred yards to a massive building. The structure itself looked like something out of an Indiana Jones movie, complete with big wooden doors and torches lining the path towards it.

It was time to figure out what was going on, so he started forward down the path that led to the building. "Least it'll be dry." The irony that he had gone for weeks praying for rain during his tour in Iraq hadn't escaped him. "Next time, I'll be more careful for what I wish for." He grumbled to himself as he neared the entrance.

Fifty yards off, he saw movement. Two... things emerged from the shadows near the huge doors as if the darkness itself had given birth to them. They looked like jellyfish, almost... translucent, pink, and lots of tentacles hanging from their bodies. How the hell jellyfish managed to float in the air instead of water was a mystery he wasn't wanting to figure out up close.

Brian's hands grasped his rifle, snapping the firearm up to his shoulder. If they were going to act hostile, he was going to be ready for it. He undid the M14's safety catch and pointed it at the closer of the two creatures. The scope made close-range shooting difficult, but at least the targets were large enough to hit without a precise point of aim.

The closer of the creatures started spinning, its tentacles cutting through the air with a constant rush of air. It was bearing down on the Marine, searching for prey to tangle up and subsequently consume. It got far more than it bargained for.

Brian pulled the trigger twice, the 7.62mm rounds punching through the main body of the 'jellyfish.' The creature cascaded to the stone below, its tentacles going limp. Bullets hurt it, at least. The soldier shifted the rifle, not even waiting for its twin to make a move. He fired twice more, the reports once again echoing off the stone and disturbing the silence. The second creature joined the first, and the victorious Marine cracked a smile.

"Sergeant Lancing... jellyfish terminator for hire." He quipped, approaching the door. The M14 was still out and tracking anything that might move. He wasn't going to be taken by surprise. The portal blocking his progress was massive and made of wood. Even on smooth hinges it took a great effort to open... it either served a ceremonial purpose or was designed for some pretty damn large dinosaurs. Either way he made his way inside, pulling the huge wooden construct closed behind him. Blinking his eyes to get used to the dim interior, he once again looked around.

The main hall, or at least he assumed that was what it was... was decorated sparsely, with no wall hangings, posters, or even signs to guide a visitor. Torches lined the walls, and he could see very fine marble floors and walls. Obviously someone or something spent a hell of a lot of time and money on the place. Was it some sort of church or temple, perhaps?

Brian saw a huge chamber beyond the main hall, and decided to move in for a closer look. There didn't seem to be any jellyfish to hamper his progress, but as he walked his hands exchanged the M14 for the Remington... the scattergun making a far better choice indoors.

Entering the place was like walking into an empty sports stadium. The main feature he noticed was the overall shape.. a cylindrical tower nearly four hundred feet tall, the top of which was at least partially open to the air. He could see rainfall in front of him, but grates in the marble floor in front of him kept the place from getting too wet. A series of balconies extended up the tower, which caused him to look up. He needed to get up there, but he didn't see any stairs.

He did, however, see a decently-sized splotch of blood on the stone several yards away. Something had gotten hurt here... could it have been Krystal? The Marine grit his teeth... whether or not it was his new ally, it was a lead. There seemed to be a trail of the stuff leading towards a dark alcove embedded into the blue-gray stone wall... with no choice left he decided to follow it.

Holding the shotgun at the ready, Brian stepped into the alcove. It had been filled with several shipping crates... holding God knew what. Peering into the darkness, he spotted something slumped against them. Taking a deep breath, the Marine closed in, reaching out to touch it.

The feeling of soft fur greeted his touch... it was probably her. Setting the shotgun down and pulling a small flashlight out of a belt pouch, he confirmed his suspicions. Krystal was slumped against the crate, the olive drab T-shirt she had taken from the Humvee soaked with blood. Moving the light lower, he spotted two stab wounds in her midsection... something had really done a number on her. "Hold on... I'm going to get you out of here."

He set down his pack, reaching into one of its outside pockets and taking out the first aid kit that was tucked within. He had to make it quick... she had definitely lost quite a bit of blood. Taking two large packs of gauze, he lifted her shirt up and pressed them to the still-oozing wounds. After that, a bandage was wrapped around her midsection and cinched tight.

"That's going to have to do." With a sigh he gingerly picked the vixen up in his arms... after being trained to carry nearly three hundred pounds of Marine and combat gear, she wasn't that much of a burden. Still, he would have to put her down in order to get to his weaponry... but he wasn't too far from the point where the Warpstone put him. Easy two hundred yards, at that.

It wasn't going to be that easy, unfortunately. Almost as soon as he crossed the chamber, several shadowy forms blocked his way. He had a bad feeling about this... so he set her down and slid the shotgun off his back. The lead shadow... a huge figure... made its way into the light.

Even to the hardened soldier, the Sharpclaw that emerged was intimidating. Nearly nine feet high and built like a brick Buick, its left hand was missing and sported a wicked set of blades attached to the wrist. Those blades, he noticed, were coated with blood. It didn't take a genius to figure out what happened. He was the one who shanked Krystal.

As the massive lizard took a step forward, Brian racked the shotgun's pump. The reassuring _shak-shak _sound reached his ears... an obvious warning that he was more than willing to use it. He decided to speak... even though he was certain the Sharpclaw only spoke its native language. "Come any closer and Mister twelve-gauge here blows your ass in half."

The creature chuckled and looked down at the Marine... and to his surprise returned his threat in English. "Brave words from a foolish monkey. I am General Scales... leader, tyrant, and dictator of Sauria. As such, you would be wise _not_ to threaten me."As he boasted, the Sharpclaw general noticed a familiar blue fox on the ground right behind the alien. "I see that the Cerinian I seek is not yet dead. If you give her to me, I will let you live. If not..." Scales left the threat lingering in the air, a malicious grin crossing his features.

The human shook his head. "I don't think so. Hell, might as well do this world a favor and take your ass out." With a grin, he lifted the Remington, but he never got to do anything with it. Several sharp cracks flashed out from the shadowed Sharpclaw, and instantly Brian felt as if he had taken a roundhouse kick from Chuck Norris himself. They _all_ had guns. His shotgun clattered on the cold stone floor as he fell backwards, and he found his hand frantically grabbing for his Colt before he was too late.

His hand wrapped around the .45's grip and yanked out of its holster just in time for Scales to lift his blades. They swiftly came down; Brian cringing and steeling himself for the vicious attack... which never landed.

The General's blades came within a foot of his throat then simply... stopped.... the Sharpclaw's eyes widening as he started to defend himself from an unexpected attack. An intense heat flared over Brian's shoulder as he saw a bolt of fire fly from behind him; striking Scales in the chest. The Sharpclaw tumbled to the ground, snarling in pain.

The Marine looked over his shoulder, taking in the sight of Krystal's badly wounded form holding her staff weakly in one paw. Their eyes met, briefly... the vixen uttering a soft groan before falling unconscious once again. While he wanted to just waste this self-proclaimed General right there and then, the fact they were going to get shot at _again_ took precedence. Without a second thought he aimed the Colt at the other Sharpclaw soldiers and blasted off the entire magazine. A few of them fell and most of them tried to take cover from the rain of .45 pistol rounds.

Shoving the empty handgun back into its holster, Brian grabbed and slung his shotgun. The surviving Sharpclaw were scrambling for their weapons, and Scales was struggling to get up. He was out of time. Hurriedly he scooped the vixen up, making sure she was limply holding onto the staff that had saved both of their asses.

His eyes darted around, spotting a corridor to his left. While the remaining Sharpclaw were getting ready to give chase he darted down it, throwing the comatose vixen over his shoulder to keep one hand free. As the group of enraged lizards ran after them, an idea came to mind. "I hope this works..."

His free hand reached for one of the D-rings on his armor, grasping the M67 fragmentation grenade which lay there. It was a risky endeavor, but so was getting shot at by the lizards. Pulling the explosive device off of his armor, he pulled his pin with his teeth... chucking it behind him. As he did so he pulled Krystal off his back and tried to shield her from much of the blast as he could... scrunching over her limp form.

That turned out to be a major mistake. The grenade fell into the midst of the Sharpclaw, thinking he had chucked a rock at them. The blast was deafening; even the marble hall shook as the explosive charge tore the grenade body apart, ripping the hapless soldiers apart with a torrent of shrapnel.

Brian felt a few stray pieces patter against his armor and tear at his exposed arms and legs... at the distance they were at they weren't too harmful. However, the rumbling continued after the shock wave of the detonation was supposed to cease... and he felt the floor caving in. The sickening sensation of freefall caused him to panic, but he managed to clench Krystal tighter to himself as they fell... stifling a scream as they plummeted into the darkness.

The shock of cold water came next as they hit some sort of half-submerged stone channel. The impact knocked the wind out of him, and he realized they weren't out of danger yet; the channel was slick and he couldn't find any sort of purchase, and they were carried on by the fast-moving water. It was, in essence, the water slide from Hell.

Brian struggled to keep Krystal's head out of the rushing water, just trying to stay steady as they were pushed down the fast-moving channel. His armor and weapons were creating a drag, and he winced as he heard both the rifle and the shotgun scrape against the ancient stone... the weapons were receiving a pounding. However, once the channel ended they would probably fall into a cistern or something... he could see a dim light ahead through the pitch darkness.

As the light rushed closer, a sense of foreboding came over him... something told him he made a huge mistake setting off that grenade. They picked up speed, and the sound of rushing water filled his ears as the opening came closer. Before he could even blink they passed through it... and into empty space.

The iron grip of fear clenched Brian's gut as he realized what had happened. Instead of a cistern, the drainage channel they had been riding in led directly outside... off of the Palace wall. They were in freefall, tumbling through a vast abyss towards a certain death. _'I fucked up.... it's not supposed to end like this!'_ His mind was racing, trying to figure out anything to slow their descent... but failed. He couldn't even see the ground below; just simply empty foggy space. Somehow he continued to keep his deathgrip on Krystal... if there was some minute chance she might survive he would have to take it.

"I'm sorry." he whispered as they plummeted, the sickening feeling of falling continuing to fuel his fear. All of his life he dreaded something like this; a plane crash or a tumble off a tall building; it was simply ironic to die this way. Surviving all this just to meet your fate in the worst way you thought possible... on a God-damned alien planet.

He looked down at the vixen, gritting his teeth... his fear temporarily replaced by surprise as her emerald eyes opened to gaze into his. It was as if in their last moments she could see into his soul; his thoughts and most basic fears ripped open and laid bare for her to see. Yet, all he could see in her was calmness... calmness tinged with agony. She spoke, a pained whisper that barely reached his ears beyond the rush of the wind as they plummeted to their deaths. "Please... trust me."

"Trust what?" he started to shout... about to shout that he screwed up and they were going to die here... but another bout of nausea started to take hold in his stomach, and the world faded into a swirl of colors and impossible patterns.

* * *

_"Wake up, lad! Ye're no longer in danger. Get yer arse up and moving!"_ The voice boomed into Brian's head, snapping him out of a daze. He wasn't dead. He was, in fact, laying on a patch of grass, and the familiar 'Fat Bastard' stone guy was yelling at him. The Marine slowly sat up, his head pounding and his stomach feeling like it was going to rebel on him any moment. "What the hell happened?" he murmured, trying to find his feet.

"Wot th' 'ell happened?" The Warpstone towered above him... looking about as concerned as an animated monument actually _could_ look. "Ye nearly got yeself and the lass killed, that's wot happened!" Brian stood up then... feeling the cling of once-again damp clothes. He was _really_ tired of being wet. "Ye need tae be more careful, lad."

Great... he was being scolded by a damn statue. He sighed and glanced around... noticing that Krystal wasn't there. He had been holding onto her... where was she? "Yeah, yeah. Try thinking on your feet when being chased by a murderous dictator the size of a damn Buick." Without waiting for a response he glanced at the Warpstone. "Cut to the chase. How'd we end up here, and where is she?"

"Alright, lad... if that's the way ye want to play it." The monolith raised an arm and pointed out across Thorntail Hollow. "That lass saved yer life. When ye got 'er outside the Palace... in yer own dangerous manner... she touched minds with me. I grabbed the both of ye. Do ye have any idea 'ow hard 'tis to link up with a fallin' person?" Brian shook his head and sighed. "As to where she is, they've got 'er in the Queen's Chamber. They want ye to go there."

"Left me here, hm?" Without waiting a response, Brian exited the small grove, giving an exasperated sigh. Something told him his reception with the Saurians was a bit cooler than he had thought. Either way, he was going to pay the Humvee another visit... with luck his fatigues would be at least somewhat dry.

To his relief, they were... for the most part. After changing back into his battle garb and taking a few bites off an MRE energy bar, he was ready to 'meet the public.' Brian wisely decided to leave his weaponry in the vehicle, although as a last precaution he stuffed the Beretta under his jacket. He was burning through .45 rounds at a pretty quick pace, and didn't really want to rely on the heirloom too much.

The trek to the 'cavern' where the Queen Earthwalker resided was quite uneventful. They had the Hollow pretty well secured, which was made apparent by the hulking Earthwalker guard by the entrance. It was about to say something in its native language... but recognized the human and stepped aside. Brian took that as a cue to enter.

The quarters were very dimly lit, and only three others resided inside. Tricky was the first to greet him; padding up to the Marine. "About time you got here... your friend's in real trouble." Without even waiting for a reply he dashed to the Queen... his mother standing defensively over a small nest of blankets on the ground.

Krystal was settled on that nest, unmoving. Even in the dim light he could see she was still in pretty bad shape; the bandage job he had done was spotted through with blood. A slight pang of guilt coursed through him... could he have done something different? Tricky's voice distracted him. "She's not doing too well. My mom says she was stabbed by general Scales. He taints his blades with nasty magic to make sure his victims die from them no matter what." The young Earthwalker trembled at this; Brian was unsure if this was from fright or rage.

The Queen spoke next, although just like before he couldn't understand a single word of their language. Tricky nodded at her, and spoke back in kind.... before turning back to him. "Mom says she's slipping in and out... whatever that means. But, there is a way to stop Scales' enchantment."

Brian crossed over to Krystal, kneeling next to the blankets she was laying on. His fingers reached for her neck... he was no doctor but having a nurse for a mother had taught him a few things. He had no idea what sort of pulse a Cerinian should have, but it was both slow and erratic. Her body was trying to slip into shock, but for some reason... she was trying to stabilize herself. "What do I need to do?" She saved his life, even if he had been trying to save hers. He was honor-bound as both a Marine and a friend to help.

Tricky sighed with relief... with his gruff exterior, he wasn't too sure the 'human' would have been this willing to help. He was about to say something, but he was cut off by a pained voice... Krystal's. "B...Brian?" Her paw reached up to him, grasping his hand weakly. "You won't... be able to help with your... tools." The vixen paused as a coughing spell wracked her body, causing her to wince and double over in pain. "P... please. My staff will... help. It needs... energy. Find... the jewels. I've seen... them." The vixen doubled over once again, yet the blessed state of unconsciousness took her before she went through much more pain.

"Christ." Brian muttered. Her staff ran off of some sort of jewel, which apparently this planet had as well. How could he... wait a minute. Those multicolored jewels he found while bringing Tricky back here...

The young Earthwalker was thinking the same thing. "Those strange rocks you brought back with you... that's got to be them!" Tricky rushed for the entrance, practically pulling the Marine with him.

"Hold it, dude." Brian shook his head. "I've got 'em with me. Let's get this over with." Once more the Marine reached into his pack, digging beyond the spare ammunition, food, and other detritus he had collected or had been issued. His hand finally encountered them, which were then pulled out as if they were even more valuable than their appearance suggested.

The human approached Krystal again, holding the jewels in his hand. The vixen was still out of it, but her paw was loosely wrapped around her staff. He gingerly pulled the weapon away from her, examining it to see if there was a slot or something the jewels might fit in.

A receptacle towards the bottom seemed to fit them. He placed one on top of it, and almost dropped the staff when it pulsed softly in his hand; the jewel simply disintegrating whenever the staff absorbed it. A flash of light at some chamber at the bottom caught his eye, and it slowly seemed to fill up just a little. It was some sort of power indicator, then.

Even the second jewel wasn't enough to give the staff more than a mild charge. It would have to do, as he set the staff back into her waiting paw. Even while unconscious, the Cerinian seemed to relax when presented the undercharged weapon; it was apparently able to do _something_ to help.

With a sigh the Marine turned to Tricky. "Now... where do I find more of those suckers?"


	10. 9: Deja Vu

**Notes: Well, this chapter is fairly short; I'm getting back to that format after being rusty for a while. I was trying to get this particular story arc out of the way so I can get back to the real game plot fairly quickly... and this sets up the next few chapters rather nicely.**

**I have gotten a few PMs and reviews asking if Fox McCloud is going to be in the story. The answer is I'm unsure. I'm considering starting a side story(a separate story on this site; I won't be alternating chapters within this story) that will take place during the events of _Zero Point_ that will focus on what the Star Fox team is doing at the time of this story... and eventually integrate those plots. I have a few ideas and the start of a chapter on that worked up... however if I do start on that end it will make progress on this story rather slow. On the other hand, I _do_ have some interesting ideas as far as that goes. Even if you're reading without shooting me any reviews, chime in with a review or PM telling me what you think. Anyway, onto this(albeit short) chapter... more will come relatively soon.**

Chapter 9: Déjà Vu.

"I can't believe we're going back _there_ again." Brian sighed in exasperation as he trudged through the natural caverns. He had made damn well sure he was well-armed; both his M14 and the shotgun weighing him down as they had before. Only this time he _knew_ he would need the extra firepower. "Are you sure this is the only place we can find those jewels?"

Tricky snorted from his spot a few yards ahead of the Marine. "We haven't found them anywhere else _but_ Ice Mountain, Brian. Besides... you kicked those Sharpclaws' butts last time we came through there. We don't need to worry about anything!"

"They might have found time to reinforce their numbers, kid. That's why I'm telling you to stick close and keep an eye out." The human glanced up to see the familiar snow-covered terrain they had been through mere hours before. At least this time he wasn't stripped to his under armor... a fact he was grateful for when they emerged back into the frozen valley.

The first thing the two noticed was the distinct lack of Sharpclaw bodies... either the woolly mammoths or more Sharpclaw had taken care of the corpses. Brian had his money riding on the mammoths... and confirmed it by the way one of them approached them almost as soon as they walked out into the open.

_"You have returned, brave Prince. You have brought word from your mother about our Gatekeeper's plight?"_ The Snowhorn asked eagerly... which almost caused Tricky to stammer. He hadn't even asked his mom about what to do... but even when put on the spot, the Earthwalker still managed to give a diplomatic response... regardless if his human ally was going to like the repercussions.

_"Yes, I have. Mom sent us to help you... what's happened to Garunda Te, anyway?"_ Tricky had to admit he was a little nervous about asking. Until the two strangers arrived, he had been pretty much sheltered from the atrocities that General Scales had committed... but he had heard his fair share of rumors.

The mammoth pointed his trunk towards a large gate that had been hastily erected across a small opening in a rock edifice nearly fifty yards away. _"The Sharpclaw took him and confined him in a makeshift prison... and took all the other Snowhorns off to the Darkice Mines. They said we were too old to be of any use, so they stuck us down here and make sure we don't leave as well... filthy bastards. I'm not too old to squash them... that is if they weren't starving us to keep us too weak to put up a fight." _the Snowhorn huffed as he mentioned the conditions they had been put through.

_"We'll see what we can do. So, Garunda Te is locked up in there? Can you help us get that gate open?" _The Snowhorn shook his head, offering only a shrug to the Earthwalker. Undaunted, Tricky nudged Brian's leg, causing the Marine to look down.

"What's going on, anyway?" he asked, glancing back up to the gate the mammoth had been pointing at. He had a sneaking feeling that they were being asked to take it down. Without even waiting for a response, he simply strode towards it, his gloved hand brushing against the stock of his shotgun. "They need to get through here, right?"

"That's what they said, Brian. The Sharpclaw have locked the Gatekeeper... er, their leader, of sorts... in there. They've imprisoned the entire tribe, pretty much." Tricky simply followed the soldier, and his eyes widened when he saw the lock firmly entrenched between a couple of the bars. How're we going to get through that? We gotta find the key!"

"Key?" Brian shook his head, offering a smirk to the young dinosaur. "I'm not going to waste time finding a damn key while a friend's life is on the line. Plus, I don't care if I cause some property damage while I find those jewels we're _supposed_ to be searching for." The Marine continued forward, unslinging the Remington from its spot on his back. He checked the chamber and frowned... reaching into the satchel at his side. "I suggest you and your friend stand back. It's going to get loud."

The young Earthwalker backed off several yards, motioning for the curious Snowhorn to do the same. _"You saw what he did earlier... he's got better firesticks than the Sharpclaw do. Plus, he's trying to save the life of the other alien that crash-landed here. I don't know what they are... you've already seen him, and she looks like a Lylatian fox... only colored blue."_

The Snowhorn paused and looked at Tricky. _"Did you say... blue? Does she happen to carry a powerful spear weapon? Ceremonial jewelery? Markings on her arms?"_ This was surprising to him... he had heard tales of long ago... did they actually exist?

_"Yes... she has a staff that glows with magical energy,and strange markings on her arms. She hasn't been here in the Snowhorn wastes, though... what do you know about her?"_ What the Snowhorn described fit Krystal to a letter... but how did he know?

_"Brave Prince... there are old legends of creatures such as this. They are called Cerinians, and arrived here to help us long, long ago. They used to appear at the Warpstone back in Thorntail Hollow, if the stories were true. I'm surprised the Warpstone hadn't told you any of this."_ The Snowhorn was about to continue, but was interrupted by a shout from the human.

"Found a slug, and I'm about to demolish this lock. Quit yakking and get back... this might be hazardous for your health!" Brian slid a single three-inch Magnum shotgun slug into the breech of the weapon. Instead of firing a quantity of pellets, a slug consisted of a single, heavy piece of lead.... acting like a giant bullet of sorts. Shotgun slugs could penetrate most body armor and even armored glass at short range... and were used as a makeshift way of breaching locked doors.

Waiting for the two to back out of range, Brian lifted the Remington up and pointed it toward the door. As a precaution he shut his eyes and put his head forward... if there were any fragments he would be protected by his helmet, at the very least. His finger pulled the weapon's trigger.

The shotgun blasted its deafening report, amplified by its close proximity to the wall. A one-ounce chunk of metal traveling just over the speed of sound slammed into the lock holding the gate shut. Even though the lock was stout and meant to take quite a bit of abuse, it simply ripped apart. When Brian opened his eyes, all that remained of its presence on the gate was most of the bar that held it in place.

The Marine grinned as he picked up the remains of the lock and threw it aside; the chunk of tortured metal disappearing into the snow several feet away. "_That's_ how you get through a locked door." He racked the shotgun's pump and thumbed another shell into it; afterwards turning towards Tricky. "C'mon... we got that little obstacle out of their way. Let's bust their leader out of the joint and be done with it... we got some jewels to collect."

The gate was easily enough pulled open, allowing the two of them entrance into the natural valley which lay beyond. To their right the valley sloped downward, stopping at a roaring stream... although Brian could see there was some sort of cavern entrance beyond that. To their left, however, was their goal... and a desperate voice called out from that same direction.. this time it seemed to be in English. "Hurry, lads! Get me out of this infernal cesspit!"

The Marine's eyes squinted, trying to see past the glare of the snowfield. The sun was starting to go down and that meant he wouldn't be fighting the glare... but colder temperatures weren't something he wanted to stick around for. He did, however, spot his quarry... a mammoth's trunk sticking out of an iced-over pond. How did that work? Puzzled, he crossed the distance in mere seconds, eyes and Remington scanning for any opposition. His training and instincts both screamed at him... the whole situation smelled like an ambush.

As he reached the edge of the pond, he saw the source of the trunk... and the decent-sized hole chipped into the ice. The mammoth inside was large even for its kind, but he could tell by his movements that he was incredibly weakened... they were definitely starving the poor sod. "Thank the Krazoa you finally showed up, lads!" The mammoth looked the human over. "You might look strange, but anyone who is willing to help us against the Sharpclaw is welcome in our lands. Who are you?"

"Sergeant Brian Lancing, United States Marine Corps." he stated simply, making sure he was keeping an eye out for any possible interruptions to their conversation. Out of the corner of his eye he could tell Tricky was doing the same... he might be annoying but at least he was developing _some_ sense of tactics. "Going to take one helluva icepick to get you out of there... how'd they manage to ice you in?"

"I'll explain later, boy. Right now you need to get me out of here. Do you see that tree?" Brian followed the mammoth's pointing and saw a tree further down the valley... a scraggly-looking thing that looked to be surrounded by dead tumbleweeds. "That's a frostweed tree. They taste like filth but it's something to eat. If I can regain just a little more strength, I can break free."

"Alright. You got yourself a deal." Brian stood up just as he heard a commotion and more movement from another cave entrance off to his right... he had been watching that rather closely. Several Sharpclaw emerged; a stockier variant with blue scales... all armed with spears and axes. They looked like they meant business. So did he. "Right after I pop some lead into these worthless mofos."

The Marine backed away, snapping the shotgun's stock to his shoulder. "Tricky! Get your ass in gear and start dragging those weeds up to him! I'll lay down suppressive fire!" As the Sharpclaw charged, he was ready. The Remington boomed its response into the cold air; its stock slamming against Brian's shoulder. The weapon belched forth a quantity of lead shot which ripped into the lead lizardman... sending it straight to the snow-covered ground.

To their credit, they didn't break rank... even as Brian started firing into the massed crowd. The shotgun roared again and again, Brian working the pump as fast as it could go.... until he ran into the only tactical flaw the shotgun had. The weapon could only carry five rounds, and he didn't have time to reload.

Two Sharpclaw were left standing after the onslaught; as they charged Brian didn't have any time to reach for another firearm. This would have to be up close and personal. One of them tried to take a swipe at him with his club... which was blocked by the unyielding steel of the empty shotgun. Brian growled and kicked out at his opponent... throwing the lizardman off-balance enough to drag the hot barrel against its side. The rapid fire he had been doing with the weapon had made the twenty-seven inch tube uncomfortably hot. The Sharpclaw hissed and pushed away.

That was enough of an opening for Brian. The Marine lashed out with the shotgun's stock, ramming it underneath the recoiling lizardman's jaw. He could hear bone crunch and it dropped away from him, howling in agony. The other Sharpclaw growled, attempting to charge him... but there was a little too much distance for it to be effective.

Brian's hand shot down into the satchel at his waist, grabbing another shotgun shell. He rammed it into the weapon, racked the slide, and pulled the trigger. A load of twelve gauge double-aught blasted the final opponent backwards... and he quickly reloaded the weapon again.

Unfortunately, there wasn't any time to rest. A startled cry from the distance caused him to snap around... more Sharpclaw were making their way towards Tricky. The Earthwalker had managed to grab a large tumbleweed from the base of the tree... but hadn't managed to escape the notice of their antagonists. He scrambled up the slope towards Brian; his jaws clamped around the brushy piece of sustenance as if it were as valuable as his own life.

The Marine begged to differ. Dropping the Remington to the snow-covered ground, he quickly brought the M14 to play. He sighted in on the closest Sharpclaw and fired a shot downrange; the 7.62mm bullet tearing into his opponent as he expected. The Sharpclaw dropped like a rock and the others started falling back as the trained soldier took a few more potshots at them. "Move your butt, kid!" he shouted as the Earthwalker neared the iced-over prison.

Tricky eagerly handed the brush to the Snowhorn, who just as eagerly took it. "Thank you!" he exclaimed just before stuffing the scraggly weed into his mouth. Even though it tasted foul, he devoured it as if it were a gourmet treat... and he awaited at least a little energy from the precious food. "Hold them off for a few more moments, lads!"

"Affirmative." Brian replied, scanning around for any new targets. Apparently none of them were armed with rifles... and they were wisely hanging back from the opponent with one. The Sharpclaw were learning... or at least hearing stories about the insane alien with the boomstick. He chuckled at that, but stopped when he saw a glint of light off to his right.

He glanced to a small collection of plants... tired-looking yet struggling against the harsh environment. They were on long, slender stalks, and each seemed to have a large bud at the end. One had partially opened and what lay inside had caused the glint... one of the jewels they were looking for!

"Tricky!" The Earthwalker's head snapped up, and the Marine pointed off towards the plants. "Those plants! They're growing the rocks we need to get! See what you can do about collecting a harvest, eh?"

"Sure, sure... get the Frost Weeds, get the magic jewels from the plants.... I'm not a farmer, you know!" Brian was greeted by the Earthwalker sticking his tongue out at him as he passed by. The absurdity of that caused him to chuckle. At the very least, he hadn't lost his sense of humor.

"Just keep an eye out, willya? We aren't out of the woods yet." The Marine kept watching the area down the valley closely, just in case the remaining Sharpclaw decided to brave his rifle fire once again. Yet... he was too intent, too focused. The Marine didn't hear the heavy footfalls behind him until it was too late.

"Behind you, lad!" the Snowhorn shouted, his powerful muscles and rock-hard tusks cracking against the ice in a futile attempt to break through his icy prison in time. Garunda Te was too late, but he kept on trying to force himself through anyway.

Brian turned around, tucking his rifle to his shoulder. He was stopped by a massive scaly hand wrapping around the M14. The trained, experienced Marine tried to keep hold of his weapon, but it was for naught... it was as if the rifle was tied to the bumper of a semi that decided to start on a drag race. The scope-equipped rifle was torn out of his hand and tossed aside, coming to a clatter in the snow several yards away. The Marine then came face to face with the largest Sharpclaw he had seen yet... except for General Scales.

This one rivaled his commander in size, and was clad in what passed as armor for his race. Just about eight feet of pissed-off reptile was in front of him, and Brian could see a similarly-sized one emerge from the cavern entrance just beyond. He cursed himself for his stupidity, but if he was going to die for this mistake... he would show them how a Marine died.

The Sharpclaw grabbed the human in his other hand, opting to simply throw the soldier with all of his might. Brian tumbled through the air before colliding with a nearby rock. His armor absorbed most of the blow, but the pain that lanced up and down his chest was the telltale sign that the impact had broken ribs. He struggled to get upright.. managing to do so even through the pain. "If you want me.... you're going to have to work for it, you fuckers." His left hand shot up in the classic symbol of defiance of a raised middle finger... yet the two massive Sharpclaw weren't paying any heed.

"Going to show you.... how a Marine goes out!" His other hand fell to his last line of defense... his Colt. The M1911 had been in his family for almost sixty years... had went through Europe during World War Two, accompanied his uncle in Vietnam(but had been safely stashed in his footlocker during both his tours), had been carried in the line of duty by his father for several years afterward... and was finally passed to him. The old .45 had been transported to an alien planet, and had saved not only his life, but the life of an alien being he had grown to consider a comrade. Now... the pistol was going to speak once more before he was snuffed out. He was going to go down fighting.

The pistol was extracted from its holster as the Sharpclaw bore down on him. He didn't bother to carefully aim as he stood up, simply pointing the handgun at his opponents. He pulled the trigger; the old Colt booming out its last song of defiance before the Sharpclaw reached him.

The 240-grain .45ACP ball ammunition didn't even faze the giant Sharpclaw he had hit... the subsonic rounds simply flattened themselves against the thick metal plates that comprised its slightly enchanted armor. The last thing Brian saw was its ham-sized fist bearing down towards his head... then everything went black.


	11. 10: Cultural Differences

**Notes: Alrighty... this one has been a long time in coming; longer than I hoped it would have been. I cut this one a little short, but I made sure to put in plenty of character interaction in... not sure if some readers are going to like the dynamic that's cropped up between Brian and Krystal, but scenes sometimes write themselves and it points out some major differences between them. I planned a little more in this chapter, but I'll save it for next time... weighing in at over 5K for this chapter's kinda pushing some self-imposed limits.**

**Once again, major thanks to JyrFalcon345 for helping me push past some major plot breaks on this one... I now have a better idea of where to take the next few. **

Chapter 10: Cultural Differences.

December 23, 2003

Billings, Montana

2:30 AM, Mountain Standard Time

The miles passed on underneath his feet as the exhausted Marine piloted his car back home. The trip from San Diego had taken twenty hours, and Brian Lancing had only stopped for gas the entire way. The 1994 Acura Legend he was driving was his uncle's... he used it to go back and forth to his hometown when he was on leave. The car had taken the trip without a hitch, and at least it was a comfortable ride.

He glanced down to the gauge cluster, illuminated in yellow-white light. He had placed a small wallet photo upon it, and gave a smile towards its subject. Even through the dim light of the gauges, he could see her.

Erica Lancing smiled back at him. Nearly his five foot eleven height and blessed with copper hair, his wife was among the few reasons he decided to come back home on leave. He had just finished his first tour in Iraq, and wasn't due to report in for nearly three weeks... enough time to spend Christmas at home with his family. While it was unusual for a military wife to live off-post, Erica hated the lifestyle and made a point to keep away from it.

Although the drive out from his station was long and exhausting, he didn't mind it. Just ten more minutes and he'd be at their townhouse... a complete surprise to her as he said he wouldn't be in for two more days. The stereo was blaring the local rock station as he tried to stay awake, but it wouldn't be too long now.

His vision fuzzed over and his chest flared in pain... pounding in time with the _massive_ headache that came on as if his pain receptors had flipped a switch. Everything flared to white for a moment... an involuntary shiver running through him as a chill hit him. A distant voice echoed out to his ears, like he was struggling to listen to an old AM radio broadcast. _"We need to get out of here! Follow me!"_

And suddenly he was back in control of his car... which somehow hadn't run off the road and into a ditch as the pain hit. Time had seemingly stopped, but he was still hurtling down I-90 at eighty miles an hour... there wasn't much traffic on the interstate at the early hours of the morning, anyway. He was two exits away from being home, and the thought of surprising his wife and sleeping next to her for the first time in nearly a year spurred him onward.

The exit came up within moments and he guided the big Acura to the far right lane, slowing its advance with a gentle push of the brakes. The familiar feeling of the last leg of a long roadtrip settled over him... he had always loved to travel cross-country on a whim. At the top of the exit, he made a right turn, lazily gliding along the cold night streets... covered with a light film of snow. His uncle had mentioned they were getting some light snow last time he called... nearly six hours ago. Speaking of which... Brian reached into a little storage pocket underneath the stereo and pulled his cell phone out. A number was dialed and he held the handset to his ear. The line on the other end rang twice, and a sleepy voice soon answered. "Lancing residence... Nathan speaking."

"Hey, Unc. Just wanted to tell you that I made it safe and sound. You sure you won't sell this car to me?" The Marine chuckled... he had been trying to get his uncle to sell the car to him... mainly since he sold his old Subaru before going into the Marines and didn't have one... and partly because this particular ride held a lot of memories for him.

"Well... we'll talk about it later, Brian. Even though it's wintering in California, it's nice having that to rely on just in case my new Mercedes gives me problems." Nathan laughed in return, pausing a moment before continuing. "Just get home and get some sleep. We'll talk in the...."

His uncle's voice faded out, and another flash of white overcame his vision. The dark interior of the Acura faded out, and all he could tell was that he was in a dim cavern. Another distant voice echoed from over him.... still sounding like an old radio broadcast at the range of reception. The voice was female and apparently British.... she sounded frightened and concerned. _"What happened!? Please... help him!"_

The scene before him faded back out... just like before the car was still on the road. He had just turned down the residential street towards his townhouse, the Legend gliding along the snow-covered street like a ghost in the night air. It must be exhaustion... that and dealing with some of the horrors he had seen on the battlefield.

The last few blocks became a blur, but as he started to pull in the drive, something was amiss. Erica's Toyota Corolla was parked in the driveway... but next to it sat a familiar red Chevy pickup. Josh Hartmann's truck? Josh was an acquaintance from high school, but why was he there? Brian's suspicions were raised. He simply drove past the house, a cold feeling hanging over his heart as he did so.

At the end of the street he turned around, flipping the Legend's headlights off. "Christ..." he breathed. "What the hell's going on?" With a sigh he coasted towards the house... parking the Acura on the side of the road two doors down. He killed the engine and opened the door to the big sedan... not bothering to pull his duffel bag out of the back seat. The shock of the cold air hit him, causing him to shiver once again.... Montana in December was frigid; far different than balmy San Diego, and an alien world compared to the blistering heat of Iraq. He silently pushed the door shut and crept up to his own house... two years in the Marines taught him to move silently. He reached the door, slowly sliding his key into it....

Another flash of white overcame him. The cavern once again appeared, but his sight was blurry. Two voices were engaged in conversation, but in some sort of strange language. He couldn't decipher it, but the voices seemed full of concern. _"A kxadb xo'j jkurco den. Kxudb Melos kxo jkuvv nehbot ed xam, kee."_ He recognized that voice.... it was that British girl from earlier.

the other voice was also female, yet significantly older. _"Xo dootj hojk, 0eidw edo. Kxoho aj edc0 je misx 0ei sud te... 0ei sud'k hijx xaj xoucadw. 0ei doot ke coulo xam ro."_

The British girl seemed to protest. _"A fhemajot m0jocv A neictd'k cejo udekxoh vhaodt. Xo julot m0 cavo... ak'j m0 tik0 ke fhekosk xam. A sud jodjo xo'j dek ad u weet fcuso hawxk den... xo'cc doot jemoedo ke jkudt r0 xam nxod xo unubodj."_

The older voice seemed to make a retort, but everything faded out... to the interior of the townhome. He had crept inside and was looking around the darkened room... noting with dismay that clothes were strewn all over the living room. Alarm bells started ringing in his head, and he thought he saw someone in the shadows off to his right. The assumption was correct.

A somewhat familiar male voice boomed out at him. "What the fuck do you think you're doing, breaking in here? I'm going to beat your ass and call the fuckin' cops!" The shadowy figure approached; Brian recognized him as Josh Hartmann. He was dressed only in a set of blue boxer shorts... and that spelled out all he needed to know.

The Marine had no time to make his identity known. Hartmann had been the star quarterback of the football team for two years. He was six-two and two-hundred and thirty pounds... versus Brian's five-eleven and one-hundred seventy. The only advantage in Brian's corner was his close combat training and a couple of San Diego barfights... in which he had held his own.

A large fist came out of the darkness and the Marine countered; grabbing the man's wrist. He used Josh's momentum against him, shoving the ex-football star into an old loveseat that had belonged to his parents. The crack of wood and a yelp of pain were the results of his success; Hartmann falling over the furnishing and taking it down with him. Given an opportunity to react, he reached off to his right and flipped a nearby light switch... bathing the room with an incandescent glow.

As Brian spoke, his voice was full of venom. "Kind of hard to break into my own damn house, isn't it? You've got ten seconds to get your God-damned drawers back on and get the hell out of here." He stepped towards the fallen man, clenching his fist and narrowing his eyebrows.

A voice from behind stopped him. "Brian... what are you doing here? This... this isn't what it looks like!" Erica stood there. Even with disheveled hair and an angry look on her face, she was still beautiful. It was almost enough to temper the fact she was standing there in a similar stage of undress... just a hastily-donned nightgown and nothing else. Almost.

"Yeah, right. How long have you been screwing him, huh? Pretty fuckin' apparent that's what's going on. Didn't even have the damn courtesy to even stop sleeping around a couple of days before I came home." The Marine turned on her.... he had been expecting to give her the surprise of a lifetime by coming home early... only now, he was the one with an unpleasant one on his hands.

"You don't understand! We were..." he cut her off by holding up his left hand. His fingers encircled the ring that had lain on his finger... the one that had been there for the past four years. He slowly pulled it off, taking a look at it before he consigned it to its fate.

The silver ring glinted back at him, and the legend _'Eternity'_ was legible on the inside of the band. That was how it was going to end, though... all a big lie. "Good luck with your bozo, Erica. I've got better things to do with my time." With that, the Marine tossed the band at her feet and turned around. Before she could do anything... before Josh could extract himself from the ruined loveseat, he stormed out of the house.

The chill hardly affected him as he stomped out to his car. He hadn't even locked it. He yanked the door open and slid into the still-warm leather seat, slamming it shut with much more force than it really needed. Even before the resounding clap echoed out of existence, he had started the car... the familiar rumble of the Legend's V6 echoing throughout the interior. That was as far as he got.

Something settled upon his shoulder, startling him. Glancing back, he saw a face. Completely alien but still somewhat familiar, it belonged to a humanoid fox... with blue fur. The vixen, and that he noted by her all too female appearance underneath the BDU pants and T-shirt she wore, had a concerned expression on her features. "You need to wake up, Brian." Her voice was also familiar... the British chick in those strange flashbacks he had been having.

"I don't see me getting any sleep. Now, who the hell are you, and why are you in my car?" Without waiting for a response, he simply threw the transmission in drive and gunned the accelerator; taking the big sedan away from the house that was, for all purposes, no longer his.

"You really _are_ that far gone, aren't you?" Ignoring the obvious danger of doing so in a moving car, the vixen clambered into the passenger seat. "You already know who I am, Brian... and I'm trying to save your life. You're seriously injured, but you're slipping away. These are your _memories_... not your _life._"

"Really? Then, if I'm staring down that light at the end of the tunnel, tell me why I'm reliving my wife cheating on me? Why wouldn't I be reliving something else, like a damn vacation... or downtime with my squad?" He pushed the car further, roaring down the empty, cold streets... not even taking much notice to the fact he was talking to what was likely a figment of his imagination.

"Because this is _your_ dreamscape. Even though you don't realize it, _this_ is the memory you've focused on the most in your waking life... and this is the one you have stuck _yourself_ into. I won't judge you because of it... you are my friend. I just want you to get out of it!" Her tone became angry, more determined... as she shifted in her seat and placed a paw back on his shoulder. "I'm not losing another friend... I've lost too many already."

"Join the crowd, lady." Brian spat out with as much anger as his voice could muster, stomping on the Legend's accelerator. The automatic transmission shuddered as it downshifted twice, and the car was now roaring down the snowy streets. His eyes fell on the speedometer; its needle climbing past sixty. "You know how many friends _I_ have lost, huh? Too many to count! IEDs, insurgent snipers, and now... infidelity."

"Stop it!" the vixen roared, her paw gripping his shoulder with almost vise-like strength. "You've relived this horrible scene six times.. do you _want_ to put yourself through this for eternity? Is _this_ what you _want_?" She gripped him tighter. "You are _needed_ out there! You saved my _life_, Brian! And I'll be damned to the Void if I'm going to let you die in your dreamscape!" Shooting him a determined look, her hand shot for the steering wheel... wrenching it hard to the right.

As the crazed foxette grabbed the wheel, he fought her... unsuccessfully. He slammed on the brakes and the car skidded on the icy asphalt. The out-of-control Acura narrowly avoided several parked cars and a streetlamp, but ended up slamming against the curb. The bipedal fox, who was not wearing a seatbelt, was thrown into the dash with a grunt.

"Jesus H. Christ, lady!" Brian screamed. "What are you trying to do, get us killed! Oh, wait, you're a figment of my imagination, so you're not the one getting..." the Marine was cut off by her advance. Her paws fell to his temples, but the look she gave wasn't anger... it was fear.

"Please... you're dying. Can't you tell? I'm trying to throw enough of a stop onto your memories that you can get out of this loop! You told me that we're going to have to watch each others' backs... just come back with me! Leave this behind!" Her emerald eyes locked onto Brian's hazel ones. "All this is in the past!"

Brian's hand fell upon the Legend's door handle, or at least tried to. His hand passed through the door as if it were an illusion. The entire car was fading around him as he met the strange fox's gaze. A glint of recognition fell across him as those eyes bored into his soul. As everything faded into a white glow, a name came to him.

"Krystal?"

*-------------------*

His entire world was pain. The white glow dissipated, and with that came one of the most excruciating headaches he had ever experienced... which almost drowned out the fact his chest was screaming at him every time he took a breath. As he opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed were those emerald eyes staring back at him. Krystal had a concerned expression on her features, yet she removed her paws from his temples. "You're back... thank Melos."

"What the... what the hell happened?" It hurt just to speak, but he had to. He had been charged by some massive Sharpclaw, and then everything was blurry after that. His mind caught fragments of old memories, but... he was pretty damn confused.

"You were almost killed by a Sharpclaw Brute. Tricky and Garunda Te managed to bring you back here to Thorntail Hollow... and you managed to find the power jewels that fuel my staff." The vixen looked around the cavern they were in... the same one that the Queen made her temporary residence. "You were stuck in your dreamscape, Brian.... I'm sorry to have invaded your mind, but I _had_ to get you out of there. You would have passed to the Beyond if you hadn't."

the Marine hazily focused on what she was saying, but most of the stuff about dreams went way over his head... all he got was that she had read his mind while he was out. The fact that his chest heart meant he had broken or fractured ribs... and _that_ meant he would be in pain for months. "You do what you have to." He spoke in a low voice, taking sips of air to avoid aggravating his injuries. "I'm not going to... be moving for a while. Not sure how much help I'm going to be to you."

The Cerinian sat back on the corner of his makeshift bed, casting a frown in the Marine's direction. "The Queen has let us stay here to recover.... neither of us are in good enough shape to get back out there." She pulled up the hem of her T-shirt, allowing him to see the blood-spotted bandages around her midsection. "My staff's power drove out Scales' wounding enchantment, but it's going to take a little longer for this to heal. Maybe a couple of days."

"I think I broke a couple of ribs, and I hope to God I don't have a skull fracture." Brian hissed in pain as he tried to move a little bit, drawing another concerned look from his vulpine friend. "Even if I was in a hospital, there's not much they could do... and I'd be laid up for a couple of _months_. Got taken out of the game as it barely begun. How the hell are we supposed to do this when I'm a damn gimp?"

A thoughtful look passed over Krystal's features... an idea forming in her mind. With a wince, she pushed her makeshift bed closer to his, drawing a strange look from the Marine as she did so. The gashes on her side made themselves known even though she made sure not to harm herself any more than she already had. After she pressed her pile of Lightfoot-traded fur up against his, she reclined upon it... a sigh of relief given as the pain subsided.

"I don't see how moving up next to me is going to help mend my broken ribs, Krystal." The look on his face said it all... he thought she had lost her mind. Instead of offering a response, she reached over.... grabbing her staff and placing it into his hand. Almost instantly the headache faded to a dull annoyance, and the agony of his ribs scaled back to become almost tolerable.

"So we can use my staff to help heal us both." She smirked at him as she grasped her weapon as well... making sure the small collection of power jewels Tricky had collected were within easy reach. "I don't think we could consider this a vacation, but at least we're not being attacked... right?"

"At least yet." Brian muttered. "Those damn Sharpclaw are everywhere... even worse than those insurgents we were fighting." The Marine scoffed, staring up at the distant, dim ceiling of the cavern.

"You never told me much about why you were fighting, or why your planet needs a military... don't you have a ruling council that would keep things together and makes fair rulings for everyone on your planet?" Cerinia was rather peaceful and didn't have need for anything but a small military... she had the sneaking feeling that humans were rather warlike by nature.

Brian glanced towards her, an incredulous look on his face. "Everyone on Earth? A single government for everyone on my world?" He burst out laughing, which caused a surprised look to spring upon the vixen's features. "Good God, no... that would never fly."

Krystal frowned at him... that was one of the things that had been drilled into her by the studies she was required to do on Cerinian politics. As a member of a Council family, it was her duty to know how their laws worked... and the thought of not having a planet-wide government was shocking. How... "How does your world function? How do they expect laws to be obeyed and progress to be made if there isn't a strong Council to make it all work?" She blurted it out, once again reminded she was dealing with an alien and not another Cerinian citizen.

"We have national governments... eh, governments that preside over their own separate territories. We don't really have much of anything happening on a global level... I guess the UN would count, but that's for all intents and purposes a forum to settle misgivings and promote diplomatic relations between nations." Brian scratched his cheek with his free hand... something told him he had let some sort of cat out of the bag with this one.

Krystal inwardly winced at the revelation. Separated governments that probably squabbled and fought over resources and territory, rather than a strict hierarchy with an educated, compassionate ruling class making decisions for the benefit of everyone. "I just don't see how that works, Brian. Stronger 'nations' could easily rule over the weak... how are the weaker ones supposed to protect themselves from the stronger... or is everything equally divided?"

This wasn't something Brian expected... a civics discussion with an alien. That, and he was pretty poorly armed for this sort of battle. "Alliances and treaties between nations and groups of nations are quite common. For the most part, everyone leaves everyone else alone... but squabbles happen, or the handful of rogue nations stir up problems. They're usually put back into line relatively quickly."

"And your job is to battle these... rogue nations? How does your ruling class make sure that a nation really is... 'rogue?'" That piqued her interest... she had taken an interest in how politics worked on Cerinia, and hearing a flawed yet functioning alternative piqued her interest.

The Marine arched an eyebrow at her mention of a 'ruling class'. Did she come from sort of kingdom or something? He had to ask. "What do you mean by... ruling class? You mean like a nobility or something like that?"

She nodded enthusiastically... he was getting what she was saying. "Yes, a... nobility. Family lines that have been entrusted to rule... that's how it works on Cerinia, at least. Our Great Council is composed of two hundred thirty Ruling Seats... the head lifemates of a Family. Whenever an issue is brought up, every Family votes. Every Family must vote on every issue, and votes are only counted when all of them are accounted for. It's simple, right? A ruling class working together for the benefit of all?"

Brian's eyes widened. "Uhm... each nation has a different form of government. Mine actually works much like yours, but there's no ruling class. Anyone can run for Congress, Senate, or the Presidency. The United States was formed on the principle that the people ruled, and that there was no need for any sort of nobility."

Krystal's eyes widened in turn. "There's no ruling class in your nation? Simply anyone can join your version of a Grand Council? How in Melos' name does that work? If _you_ wanted to be on your Grand Council, what would you do?"

"It's a very highly selective process. Running for public office is expensive, and you have to have enough people willing to back you by donating money to even have a chance. But, in America... everything's run like that. You can find a council in charge of a single city, a state, or on the national level... the stakes just increase the higher up you get." The Marine shrugged as best he could, looking Krystal straight in the eyes. "They're not elite citizens. They're only where they're at because the people themselves vote on who gets put into office. They make decisions for us, but if we don't like them... they can easily be replaced come the next election."

"Really." She thought about that a moment... there _were_ differences between Families, that was for certain. The Haleths in particular were particularly involved with the political process, and internal debating on matters that hadn't yet reached the voting stage was very common. Other Familes had different ways of doing things... in many others only the head lifemates discussed and voted; leaving the rest of the Family... and the Cerinians under their care... completely at their mercy. "Is your nation unique in this method? Is your nation a stronger or weaker one?"

"America? No... quite a few other nations have similar systems. As far as strength goes, we've got a pretty strong military, but... I'm no political hack, Krystal. Before I joined the Marines, I was going to school to learn how to fix computers, not how to be a politician. Why the questions about it? Are you one of Cerinia's nobility or something?

The vixen blushed, making her immediately thankful of the dim cavern as well as the fact he probably couldn't tell it from her expression... if her sheepish smile didn't give it away. Her tail twitched nervously. "I am, yes. My parents were on the Grand Council. I would hold my duties as a Guardian and then a Temple Channeler until they decide to pass on the seat to me. If I had chosen a lifemate, he would get a seat as well... otherwise I would have one chosen for me before I took on those duties."

"Lifemate?" Brian was confused, but he assumed it was her way of saying that being married was a requirement. "Let me get this straight. You'd have to be married to someone before you get the chance to join the table, and the chance gets passed down through your family? That's kind of strange."

"It's tradition, Brian. It's how we honor Melos; anyone in position of authority in the priesthood or the Council must be Joined with a lifemate in order to fulfill their duties, as only the perspective gained by the sacred bond of trust allows one to lead with a compassionate paw." _That_ one had been taught to her in so many different ways. It was tradition, but she didn't spend too much time dwelling on it. Even if she didn't fully understand _how_ finding a lifemate would help one become a well-rounded leader, it meant happiness, right?

Brian huffed and cast his gaze towards the ceiling. "Yeah. Right. I'd hate to disagree on that, but at least on human terms, it seldom works out that way. I don't mean any disrespect, but you don't learn jack shit by having a ring on your finger... except that eternity doesn't last as long as you think."

The harsh tone of his voice and the bitter edge behind his thoughts caused Krystal to wince. She had struck some sort of nerve. Her tail nervously twitched as she thought about how to phrase her next question. "I saw you in your dreamscape, Brian... while I was trying to get you out. She was your lifemate, wasn't she?"

The Marine grumbled, turning away from her as he did so. "That's not up for discussion. Leave my private life out of it." It was as if someone had flipped a switch within him. Krystal could feel a wave of bitter thoughts flood through his mind... what had happened between him and his former lifemate was a _major_ thorn in his paw, so to speak.

The concept was very strange to her... lifemates _meant_ that. Mated for life, never to fall apart. Breaking apart from a mate on Cerinia was a very rare occasion; those seeking to do so were required to first work through their problems with a temple priest. This worked for nearly all occasions... was human culture any different? She had to do _something_.

"It _is_ up for discussion, Brian." Her voice grew stern, taking the commanding presence of a Guardian and member of a Council Family. "Your thoughts of what she put you through nearly killed you. If I hadn't intruded and stopped you from reliving that night, you would have died." Without asking, her free paw closed over his hand. "These thoughts of pain and hatred cloud your judgment, your mind, _and_ your spirit... regardless of what you think about our beliefs. The Scrolls of Life teach us that bitter thoughts bear bitter fruit. I _know_ you don't want that out of your life."

"Christ, Krystal." Brian spat. "I don't need a god-damn lecture about this. _You're_ the one making the big deal about it. I might _be_ angry about it, but who cares? It's not like Erica's going to show up here with her lawyer anytime soon and drag my ass to more divorce proceedings!" He turned away from the vixen as much as he could, and the thought of letting go of the staff crossed his mind. Yet, he couldn't afford to limp around in _that_ amount of pain. "This discussion is _over_, Krystal. Don't bring Erica up to me again. Okay?"

The vixen snarled as a sudden vision of her mother flashed before her eyes. As she spoke, she tried to fight back the wave of tears that attempted to make their presence known. "Fine, Brian. You're not the _only_ one who has lost someone... keep your bitter paws around that thought, and heed my words well. I won't let your hatred and pain jeopardize my life, and the lives of these innocent Saurians." With a huff she let go of the staff and stood up all in one motion... hiding the piercing pain from her side as she did so. "If I give you an order, I'm going to expect you to follow it."

The Marine scoffed. "Sir, yes, sir!" As the Cerinian limped out of the cavern, he rolled his eyes... she wanted to bring up his past, and got pissy just because he decided that now it wasn't the time for a therapy session. As the silence encroached, he leaned back... allowing sleep to overtake him within moments.


	12. Chapter 11: Moral Bankruptcy

**Notes: Well, finally pushed this one through... sorry about the wait, but I've had a moderate amount of writer's block happening plus issues to deal with my laptop as well as work. The next chapter's already coming along fairly nicely, but will need some polishing. Expect a bit of foreshadowing within the next few chapters. Now, as I didn't really get to reviews on the 'filler' chapter, I'm going to get to those now. Also, an explaination about the title... since Chapter 11 is also a type of bankruptcy, I thought I'd throw a little humor and have a related title... heh.**

**And... for those who have this story on their alaert lists, I apologize for the multiple chapter alerts. I accidentally uploaded an older version of this chapter in lieu of the final version(I work on this story from two computers now, so I got a bit confused). This is the final version, however.  
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**Olafur: I'm impressed that you went back and read not only this, but Gambit. That's dedication. Admittedly, the main reason that I didn't continue Gambit was the fact that the multitudes of OCs were a real mess to deal with and I just wanted to start fresh. As far as Brian not mentioning wanting to go back to Earth, there will be a lot more exploration of that next chapter. He does have his reasons.**

**Lammy: Yeah, the 'filler' was kind of short. I do like how it turned out, but I'll only be updating it somewhat periodically. **

**Delta: Yes, 'Second Arc' is part of the story, and there were other Cerinians that survived the Venom forces tearing their planet up. There's a few ideas I have about where to take this, but I'll see where this particular story 'arc' goes before I settle on something solid.**

**Northern_Megas: Interesting points, and I haven't quite decided how this will change things. As far as the Starfox team's tactics go... I'll get into a more in-depth explanation later. Suffice it to say that the team has definitely come under hard times.**

**Ninja: Firstly, I'm so sorry I haven't gotten around to reviewing your latest chapter yet... I definitely will soon, though. The 'filler' will definitely tie into the main story, and as I've mentioned I have a few ideas on how to do it... things will definitely be coming together in time.**

Chapter 11: Moral Bankruptcy

The massive airborne galleon soared silently over the surface of Sauria, completely enshrouded by the cloak of night. The few Sharpclaw crewmembers upon its deck took up a silent watch, ensuring none approached without being fired upon. The immense magical energies that powered the Sharpclaw vessel also provided more than ample defense... even a Cornerian or Venom starfighter would have trouble attacking it.

General Scales felt safe enough within the confines of his airborne fortress... although that was compounded by the fact he had the various Saurian tribes pretty much under his claws. There were, however, a few loose ends that needed to be cut; hopefully before they became more of a thorn in his side. He glanced at the other occupant of the sparsely-finished dining hall; his 'second in command', so to speak.

Talon was his name; a hulking Sharpclaw brute that was nearly a match for Scales himself. Unlike Scales, Talon had a measure of self-restraint that held his own cruel machinations in check... and he was about the only living being on Sauria that could actually get away with chiding his General. "We would not be having this conversation if you were able to keep your temper in check, my lord. We would have had the Cerinian in our grasp, and we would have killed her alien protector with little fuss."

The criticism almost called Scales to snarl... had it been a simple underling saying that in his presence, their blood would have stained his blades within seconds. Even though it was Talon saying this, it still elicited a glare towards the slightly smaller Sharpclaw. "I did not need her alive for long, Talon. Had that meddlesome furless monkey not shown up, our plans would have gone through."

"That 'furless monkey,' as you call it, has been terrorizing our troops for weeks." Talon shot back. "We aren't even sure if there is only _one_ of them out there. The most recent report placed it on Ice Mountain, where it actually managed to free Garunda Te. It may have been killed in the process, but that does _not_ mean we can keep our eggs unguarded, so to speak."

"Ice Mountain?" Scales used his good hand to scratch at his snout. "They have a way to get around, then." The fist was then slammed upon the sturdy oak table, making it quiver. "I want these alien bastard, or bastards found... and brought to me. Alive if you can... I want to hear them regret the day they decided to meddle in _my_ business!"

"And if they're dead?" Talon chuckled, resting a scaly hand on the hilt of the gigantic scimitar lashed upon his waist.

"Then I will feed their bodies to the Redeye King, or perhaps Drakor himself!"

* * *

Krystal let a sigh escape into the night air as she surveyed the Hollow. After having spent the better part of two days stuffed away inside the Queen's chambers, she was eager to get out... in no small part due to Brian's attitude. The vixen strode along the bank of the creek that neatly bisected the tiny valley, making sure to keep away from the few Thorntails that were peacefully sleeping. "Why are you doing this?" she muttered, recalling her friend's bitter words. _'You're the one making the big deal about it. Don't bring Erica up to me again. Okay?'_

"At least you might have the chance of seeing her again, you ungrateful..." Krystal growled as she reached one of the large trees that stood beside the creek. As she leaned up against it she cast her gaze down to the water... her reflection staring back at her in the moonlight. She had been run ragged ever since she had begun her Trials... she didn't even have time to really rest and celebrate becoming a Guardian. Instead, she lost everything. Her homeworld, her family... everyone she knew was dead, and she was stranded here. What a Guardian she turned out to be; she failed the very people she was supposed to protect. And here she was, stranded on this planet with only the Saurians that needed her help and a bitter, angry alien to keep her company.

Her reflection looked almost alien to her; festooned in the military clothing from Brian's homeworld as well as his weaponry. Krystal had armed herself as best she could as she left, swiping his knife and blaster pistol from the entrance of the cave. The constant threat of another Sharpclaw attack kept everyone on edge, and it just wouldn't do to remain unarmed. Still, the Cerinian staring back at her just didn't match up. Her fur was unkempt; her eyes bloodshot from lack of decent sleep. She hadn't even mentioned to Brian that she had stayed up for nearly two days keeping vigil over him; hoping that he would awaken on his own. She had even ignored the Queen Earthwalker's admonishments to rest... even though she knew her own wounds needed tending to.

Even through all that, she was repaid with scorn. Only the thought that both of them had been through much stress kept her from being too angry. Krystal was a little more worried than she was angry; while Brian kept the outward appearance that his bitterness was manageable... she knew that the memories of his former lifemate threatened to tear him apart. It pained her, but if he was unwilling to talk about it there wasn't anything she could do. Because of that she would have to keep her eyes open and ears perked to make sure he didn't jeopardize their lives through a rash action.

Even then, the vixen knew she needed to focus more on her own well-being. Brian would more than likely be recovering for a few days; he _did_ in fact have a fractured skull as well as a few broken ribs. That meant it would be wise to stay away and let him recover... as well as get some rest of her own at the same time. She glanced over toward his vehicle; sitting in a clear spot near the entrance to the cavern. She would sleep there, but not before getting cleaned up and well-fed... in that order.

The Cerinian pushed away from the tree, noting the waterfall that ran below the Warpstone's personal grotto. There seemed to be a natural cavern behind it... a perfect place for some privacy and a defensible position. She offered a soft smile as to her fortune, managing to duck behind the rushing water while keeping her clothing mostly dry.

The residual water from the falls had made a decently sized pool within the cavern. Waiting for her eyes to adjust to the near-darkness, she slipped out of the alien clothing. Krystal then gingerly peeled the bandage from her side, noting with a little concern that she was still bleeding a little bit. Even that discomfort wasn't enough to dissuade her from cleaning off... and taking a swim while she was at it.

Swimming was one of Krystal's favorite pastimes; her family home had a small lake upon its property. She spent hours training for her Trials there, and she equated taking a swim to being free of all the troubles she had to deal with... if only for a few moments. The small pool was nowhere near the size of the lake that Brian had stopped next to after their first encounter, but it was large enough to move around in. The vixen darted underwater and launched for the opposite side; coming up in a spray of water and blue fur. The two gashes upon her side flared with pain for a brief instant, but then settled down to a dull ache... a very good sign that they were healing well enough.

She reached down and grasped a handful of sand. In lieu of actual soap, the sand would help get the flaked, matted mass of dried blood out of her fur. Krystal worked on her paws first, noting with satisfaction that the rust-colored blood... she couldn't tell if it was Brian's or her own; possibly a mixture... was coming out rather easily when coaxed by the abrasive sand. She concentrated on her side afterwards, albeit gently... she didn't want to work any of the sand into her wounds. Working cautiously, she managed to get the worst of it out of her fur.

A flash of light off to her left startled her, and one of her paws grabbed at the knife she had taken from Brian. She was loathe to use his blaster pistol in an enclosed space; her earlier experience taught her that they were extremely loud. Taking a deep breath, the vixen's eyes found the source of the brief flash... down a passageway her eyes could just barely make out. She mentally chided herself... she was in an extremely vulnerable position and hadn't even thought of the possibility there might be someone or something out there.

Clenching the knife in her paw, Krystal silently pulled herself out of the water. Her other paw grabbed at her clothing, or at least her ceremonial top and the pair of cut-off pants she had found among the human garb... which accounted for her undergarments. She didn't like the feeling of soaked clothing against her fur, but it was either that or be completely naked. After taking a deep breath, the vixen slowly strode down the passage... keeping the heavy blade ready for any sudden attack.

The passageway started wandering upwards as she made her way down it, her senses stretched to the limit... ensuring that she would not be caught off-guard in the dark. There were no thought patterns within the range of her abilities, at least. The vixen emerged into a small chamber and located the source of the glow... several spherical balls, each one swirling with some sort of energy. Arcs of blue lightning crossed between spheres occasionally, and her mind puzzled over what they were.

A grin lit her face as she remembered Maloc bringing one into their home so long ago... they were starship fuel cells! They now had fuel to get her shuttle off the ground.... and they would definitely need them in order to travel to the separated chunks of Sauria. At least _something_ was going their way. The fuel cells were likely left behind by the Sharpclaw, in preparation of some mission or another. It did not matter, for they were in her paws, now. She just now needed something to carry them in. An idea crossed her mind and she rushed back down the passage.

Krystal snatched up the human soldier clothing she had been using... she would simply wrap the fuel cells in the jacket to create a makeshift bag. She pulled on the pants, shuddering at the feeling of the cloth meeting her soaked fur... it was also difficult getting her tail through the hole she cut out for it. Afterwards she buckled Brian's pistol belt back on, adding to the discomfort. The weight of his weapon and its ammunition threw her balance off, but it also allowed her to place his knife back where it belonged.

A few minutes later the Cerinian emerged from the waterfall, exhausted but with her BDU shirt stuffed full of fuel cells. Her silent stride carried her toward Brian's vehicle without waking the several Thorntail she had to pass. A tired smile played across her muzzle... as long as her shuttle was spaceworthy they would be able to obtain the Spellstone.

She reached the military vehicle as quickly as she could, placing the fuel cells gently inside the cargo compartment. As she extracted a blanket to attempt to dry out some of her sodden fur, a large shadow appeared behind her. She startled as a gentle voice spoke up... using Saurian. "You're up very late, Cerinian. Are you recovering well?"

Krystal turned around to see Garunda Te's shadowed form standing behind her..for a large Snowhorn, he was eerily silent. She had assumed that he had returned to Ice Mountain "I am, thank you. But... how did you know I was Cerinian?"She was quite surprised... none of her kind had ever left their planet until Venom had struck... for all she knew she was the _only_ one left alive. She tried to shake away the pang of grief that ensnared her thoughts, and was thankfully interrupted by the Snowhorn's response.

"Your kind came to Sauria several generations ago and helped us resolve another crisis... Cerinians created a safe place for the Spellstones, and also helped create the Krazoa Palace... where the revered Spirits could reside instead of be scattered across this world. We owe your kind a great debt." Garunda Te glanced at her. "I'm surprised you do not know of this."

"Are you sure?" Krystal glanced up at the large Snowhorn with a quizzical expression. "We never had any spacecraft until about fifty years ago... when the first Lylat traders came. Even then, the Council ruled that no Cerinian was to explore the stars... at least until we learned more about what was out there." Her paw went up to run through the damp fur of her cheek... there was no reason for him to lie to her, but that was impossible.

"They traveled here through the Warpstone, Child. The legends tell us some of your kind had the power to pull themselves through great distances using their abilities... this is rare for a Cerinian?" Garunda took a step back, looking around to make sure he hadn't awakened any of the nearby Thorntail. He wanted to keep it a private conversation. "The legends also spoke of another... another Cerinian that would deliver Sauria from certain destruction. I am certain you are the one."

The vixen blinked at him, not exactly sure how to handle the revelation which had been placed in her lap. Had Cerinians been able to travel off her world, long ago? The Art of Transference was almost as rare as her channeling abilities... but even then those who could use it were only able to 'teleport' short distances... not across the vast distances of space. Even though her mind was brimming with questions she knew the Snowhorn couldn't answer... they had a task to accomplish. "What do we need to do next?" she asked.

Garunda Te nodded at her, a sad expression overcoming his features. "I am a Gatekeeper... one of four of us who are charged with protecting the Spellstones. General Scales came to me and demanded that I give him the Spellstone... or he would kill every Snowhorn he got his claws on... the bastard." His voice darkened. "I told him no... the safety of the planet is far more valuable than even our lives. Without the Spellstones, the entire planet will fall apart."

Krystal cringed, looking up at him. "They... killed your people?" The mention of Scales' deed brought memories of Cerinia as if they were a dagger plunging into her heart. The sight of her mother collapsing into her arms filled her vision, causing tears to fill her eyes. "I... don't know what to say..."

"It's alright, lass." The Snowhorn replied, although he almost cringed at the sight of the sobbing Cerinian. Something had definitely happened to her, but now wasn't the time to confront her demons... not with the Spellstone in Scales' grasp. "Scales hasn't harmed my people, at least yet. It was worse than that. My own daughter, Belina Te... she betrayed me."

This caused Krystal to look up, blinking past her tears. "She... betrayed you?" Something about that didn't sound... right. "Why would she do such a thing?"

"Belina thought it would be better if we surrendered; she wasn't willing to make a stand against those vile Sharpclaw." Garunda muttered under his breath for a moment before explaining. "She gave them the Spellstone. To their credit, they did not slaughter us. They enslaved us in the Darkice Mines."

The Cerinian winced... his tribe was alive, but for how long? She had firsthand witnessed the brutality of the Sharpclaw... something that Brian had saved her from, whether or not he realized it. To be enslaved by those evil enough to follow the Way of Jalat caused mental images to pop into her mind; foul and violent enough for her to shudder. "I'll... I will free your people, honored one. I will return with the Spellstone, even if my ally doesn't come with me. Tell me how to get there, and I will do it... somehow."

"It won't be so simple. The Darkice Mines are one section of our world that has broken off due to the theft of the Spellstones." The Snowhorn sighed, looking her straight in the eye. "Unless you have a vehicle capable of going into space... you won't be able to get there. The Sharpclaw have a few, so I imagine you could take one over... if you could catch it on the ground."

"My shuttle might work." Krystal smiled, slightly. "I know it's damaged, but it might still fly. I don't have much of an idea how to fly it, but... I'll learn." The vixen nodded and glanced over toward the cavern that the Queen had let them use. She would need Brian's help in order to obtain the Spellstone... but would he be willing to go any farther? His mind was clouded with thoughts of his former mate, which he was trying to hide underneath a mask of indifference. To her, it was odd... Cerinians didn't hide their thoughts, especially when they were that destructive. If only he could be reasoned with. Garunda's response shook her from her thoughts.

"That would be easier, but by the Krazoa... please hurry. My tribe is in danger, and I feel sick not even being able to help them with their plight." Krystal could tell he was genuinely upset; to her mind the feeling hung over him like a dark cloud. She would do anything she could to help his tribe... nobody was going to go through the same pain that gripped her heart, not if she could help it.

"We will set out right away in the morning, honored one." Krystal nodded. "And Brian's going along to help me... whether he likes it or not."


	13. Chapter 12: Striking Out

**Okay... another chapter down, this one weighing in at 6,223 words not counting these notes. To put this in perspective, this is over ten percent of the story thus far. No action as of yet; I was trying to put in some more character development and backstory... and I think I succeeded. I won't know until I hear back from you, so once you read this, let me know. On a personal note, I just switched to a new laptop(IBM Thinkpad T40, if you really want to know) as a writing platform... I tend to take a computer everywhere I go and having a reliable, decently quick platform that desn't weigh twenty pounds like my XPS makes me more mobile... also having more than one hour of battery life helps immensely, too.  
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**Unfortunately, it's 3:00 AM where I'm at as I set the finishing touches to this chapter, so I'm not really going to be able to do anything in the way of replying to the reviews that have come in over the past few chapters. Unless there's a huge demand for another chapter on Brian/Krystal's end of the story **_**right here and right now**_**, I'll be concentrating on the second storyline and on Team Starfox's first encounter with the remnants of Cerinian society. I assure you that chapter will be longer, but I haven't yet decided when they'll end up contacting the Marine and his Cerinian escort. I do have a few plot twists lined up that will shake things up a bit, so stay tuned.**

Chapter 12: Striking Out.

Brian's eyes opened once again, shaking off the cobwebs of a dreamless sleep. Not like there was anything else to do _but_ sleep, anyway... he was still stuck in this infernal cave with a bashed skull and broken ribs. He was still ticked off about that; the next one of those huge Sharpclaw he came across was going to bear the brunt of his frustrations... "Even if it takes using the fifty-cal." The Marine finished his thought out loud as he sat up, surveying his surroundings.

Krystal's staff was still in his hand, and he noted that it was at about half-charge. Even though they had argued last night, she had left it with him... saving his body quite a bit of agony. He was definitely grateful for it... even though he was still a bit irked at her bringing up his divorce.

It really wasn't any of her business, anyway. Erica decided to be a cheating bitch, and when he caught her she decided to try to milk as much money out of him as she could. The divorce was going to be nasty as hell, and he would have wound up paying for it for years to come... at least until _this_ happened.

That much he admitted to himself. Just like that Stones song, he was two-thousand light years from home; stranded on an alien planet with no way to get back. Yet... he was free. Everyone he might have known was good as dead; his parents, brother and sisters, friends, comrades... but he was free from Erica. He wasn't going to get letters from her lawyer. She wasn't going to bleed him dry, and that alone made it worth it.

Brian was, however, still fighting. A different place and a different foe. Instead of Al Quaeda and forces still loyal to Saddam Hussein, he was fighting lizardmen and their maniacal Hitler-esque leader... who almost took his damn head off yesterday.

Had it only been that long? It felt like ages since they fell off the side of that palace. It had only been by sheer luck and Krystal's abilities that they survived it... and he didn't even want to think about falling again. The thought of going through that again shook him to his core. He was grateful that she was able to save their lives, but at the same time he wasn't sure he was wanting to face the prospect of such certain death again. Getting shot at was one thing; he could shoot back. Falling to his death was _not_ what he wanted to do.

A concerned voice from the cavern entrance brought Brian out of his thoughts. "Hello? Anyone alive down here?" It was Tricky. The young Earthwalker may have been annoying, but at least he could speak English, and he was always eager to help.

"Yeah, I'm here." The Marine caught a glimpse of Tricky rounding the corner, with what he could have sworn was a worried expression on his features. How he could have actually discerned an expression on the face of an actual dinosaur was beyond him... maybe he was going nuts. "What's up?"

The Earthwalker walked up to the piles of fur that made up his current bed; giving a concerned glance to the Marine that was sitting there. "I saw Krystal run out of here last night... what happened? Where is she?"

"We had a bit of an argument, and she took off." Brian shrugged as he slid off of the bed, making sure he kept his hand wrapped around her staff. He wasn't sure how much he had actually healed up, but under normal circumstances he wouldn't be walking for at least a month. At the same time he looked around, trying to spot his pistol. He wasn't going to walk out of the cave unarmed, and wielding his M14 or shotgun wasn't going to happen while holding onto the staff. "Where're my guns?" he grumbled, not being able to locate any of his firearms.

"They're at the mouth of the cave." Tricky explained, tilting his head to the side. "Why'd you and Krystal have an argument? Aren't you two friends?" He wondered why they would be arguing. Friends were supposed to stick together and not argue, that's what his mom told him. "What if you hurt her feelings? She wouldn't even go to sleep so she could make sure you were okay."

"Wait a minute." Brian felt a twinge of pain from his ribs as he stood up, but amazingly the crushing headache from earlier had faded completely away. He reached up to the side of his face to feel the gashes from his run-in with bullet fragments... and felt only smooth skin. Krystal's staff was working miracles... it would be awkward, but he'd have to thank her. He wasn't sure how, but he would. An idea took hold in his mind, and a test of said idea soon followed; he simply propped the staff against the cave wall next to him and let the excruciating pain come.

The Marine's luck was holding out... it didn't come. All he felt was a soreness spread throughout his ribs; a soreness that practically screamed that his broken ribs had knit and were for the most part okay. His crushing headache was gone as well... and that was something that would have laid him up in a hospital for months. It hadn't even taken a couple of days as Krystal had figured it would.

Her magical weapon had repaired damage that was far beyond the reach of even the best doctors and medical researchers on Earth. The hardest fact he had to swallow was that he had no idea how it worked. If it were some sort of sci-fi device that used nanotechnology or energy manipulation to heal wounds, it would have been one thing. Yet, her staff seemed purely... _magical_. He wasn't happy to put his trust in something he didn't even remotely understand, but without the vixen's staff he wouldn't be walking right now. Another sobering thought hit him... if it wasn't for her abilities, he wouldn't be alive right now, either.

"Alright, alright." Brian snapped, finally responding to the intruding Earthwalker; his annoyance fed by the realization that he really _had_ been too hard on her. "I'll look around for her like a good little boy. Just quit harping me about it; I don't want another headache." The Marine picked her staff back up and strode around the bend in the cave, keeping his eyes open as he approached the entrance.

Sure enough, one of his weapons was propped against the cave wall next to the door. The sight of his M14 sitting there unmolested was a relief... being in a combat zone for so long had made him quite nervous to be unarmed. He grabbed the rifle, giving it a quick once-over to make sure it was functional. It was a bit battered from the abuse it had received over the past few days; several deep scratches ran across the walnut stock and some of the finish had been roughly scraped off... yet it was completely serviceable. _'Still works. Thank God for good 'ol American engineering.'_ Brian smiled as he slung the rifle over his shoulder and stepped out into the valley.

It looked to be mid-morning, and the start of a very mild, nice day. It felt like late spring back in Billings, where it was warm enough to be comforting yet not blistering hot... the perfect day for a family picnic. He stood there for a moment, letting the warmth of the sunlight beat down upon his abused body. It felt great. If he could take away the dinosaurs and burnt patches of grass ahead, the valley would have looked exactly like a national park. The creek flowing through the middle of the valley was clear and inviting... and that reminded him that he sorely needed a damn shower.

"Should put her staff back in the Humvee as well." he stated to himself, glancing over to the vehicle. It sat where he had parked it last, next to the slope that led into the valley. It was also a good first place to check for Krystal, as well... it had all their supplies, in any case. Basking in the wonderful weather, he slowly strolled towards the armored truck.

The Humvee had definitely seen better days, he mused. The passenger's windshield was cracked in several places, courtesy of a few insurgent bullets right before it was transported to Sauria. The tan camouflage stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the vibrant greens of the valley, and it was still caked with dust and dried mud; the dust from the deserts of Iraq and the mud from the poorly-maintained trails of Sauria. It was very much ready for action; the M2 .50-caliber machine gun still sat upon the top, primed and ready. For Brian, it was his last real link to home... a home he would probably never see again.

Before opening the door, he peered through the thick armored glass. Judging by the mass of blankets piled upon the back seat, Krystal was in there... and still sleeping. He would have to be quiet. He gently popped the catch holding the door shut and slid into the driver's seat, a gaze cast to his vulpine ally as he did so.

She was tangled up with her blanket, looking as if she had tossed and turned half the night. Her foot was poking out of the blankets and hanging lazily above the floorboard of the Humvee. That caused a memory to stab at Brian's mind... Erica used to sleep like that. The few months they had lived together before he went to boot camp, he would always be up before her... he'd run downstairs to make coffee, and sneak back up. He would always reach out and tickle the bottom of her foot, sending her tumbling off the bed in a fit of laughter. He would usually get a pillow upside the head in retaliation, but it was one of those games they played.

He shook his head, clearing his head just in time to notice his hand had drifted towards her foot. His face lit up bright red as he yanked his hand back; as if he were pulling it away from a red-hot poker. Was he actually about to _do _that to her? It was completely inappropriate, and a major lack of self control. _'Get a grip, man. Erica's long gone, and you know it. Thinking about her ain't going to help. You're better off keeping it buried.'_ He chided himself as he set the M14 back into the passenger's footwell.

Her staff was gently set next to her... he also noted that she was quite deeply asleep. None of his rummaging around had woken her, and he was mildly surprised that her abilities hadn't alerted her to his presence yet. As he was tucking his staff next to her, he spotted his own prize settled underneath one of her paws: His gunbelt, complete with his M1911. He grabbed it, setting his piece upon his lap. Now for his combat pack.

The pack was sitting in the passenger's seat, which made the next part easy. He fumbled one of the pockets open and took out a large plastic bag; his toiletries kit. It contained all the necessaries... soap, shampoo, his razors and shaving cream, toothbrush and toothpaste, and deodorant. He grabbed another blanket to act as a towel and slid out of the Humvee, content to know that he hadn't woken her up. "Time to find some privacy in this joint and get cleaned up."

He didn't have to look far. The waterfall that marked the beginning of the creek looked like a good place... and sure enough there was a natural cavern behind it. He had no idea that Krystal had used it earlier, nor did he notice the several softball-sized glowing orbs that were nestled under a pile of clothing in the Humvee's cargo area.

The Marine made his way towards the waterfall, thoughts of finally getting a few minutes to relax running through his mind.

*---------------------------------------*

Krystal slowly awakened from a very fruitless sleep. Even though she was exhausted, questions had burned through her mind all night, awakening her several times. The good news was that she felt a _little_ better than before, after eating the human food packet she had rummaged up before going to bed. Still, those very questions were on her mind right now... how did other Cerinians get to Sauria? How did they help the Saurians, and what had become of them afterward?

The Warpstone would have those answers, she hoped. That would be her first order of business, after checking up on Brian. She didn't want to take it from him if he was still injured, but she still wanted her staff back. While human blasters were powerful, they were loud and she wasn't all that skilled with them. She turned her head to the right to glance at Brian's blaster pistol...

...and saw her staff right there, ready and waiting. Brian had been here and brought it back, taking his belt in exchange. At the very least he was courteous enough to do so after their argument the previous night. That caused a grin to appear on her features as she glanced around the vehicle.

Since it was encased with thick armored glass, the human military transport became quite hot with the brunt of Sauria's sun. The turret opening above her provided a little relief, but she knew that she didn't want to stay in there all day. Grabbing her staff, Krystal exited the Humvee. She was exhausted and worn out, but she had questions. _'How did other Cerinians manage to get here? Is this why the Saurian language is almost identical to my own; did Cerinians manage to teach them how to communicate?'_ Her mind puzzled over the multitude of inquiries her mind formed as she padded along the path that took her to the Warpstone. The curiosity overwhelmed her to the point where her senses were forced to the back burner... they required a great deal of concentration; something she didn't have much to spare at that point.

The grotto the Warpstone resided in was still and peaceful; marred only by the sound of water rushing over the falls below them. The massive monolith appeared to be sleeping as she made her way onto the bridge overlooking it, memories flaring into her mind. The last time she was here she was bleeding to death from Scales' blades, and was only saved by the quick action of Tricky and a few of the Thorntails. She shuddered at the dim memory of the pain and fear that coursed through her mind. It was over now, and it would _not_ happen again, as long as she could help it. Composing herself, she walked the few remaining yards to face the Warpstone.

Krystal noticed that the living rock was in fact still sleeping. A frown formed upon her muzzle as she studied him... after a moment the Cerinian made the decision to interrupt his slumber. "Excuse me?" she inquired, prompting a stirring from the ancient magical being. "Are you awake?"

The Warpstone acted much like any sleeping sentient creature would have if awoken... he blinked, yawned, and glanced at the young vixen before him. His annoyed scowl lightened as he realized who it was, and he nodded. "Aye, lass. It's good to see ye alive and well. There are few that survive Scales' blades, so count yeself lucky." He paused and glanced her over. "Where do ye need to go today?"

"I don't need to go anywhere, honored one." Krystal looked down, taking a deep breath. "I needed to ask you some questions. The Gatekeeper told me that you helped others of my kind so long ago... what happened?"

The Warpstone paused for a moment. "'Tis a long story, lass... and not one for the faint of heart. Suffice it to say they came here to help us in our time of need... and they succeeded."

The vixen sighed, sitting down upon the bank of the small lagoon. She glanced up at him, shaking her head. "You have time, honored one. I have time as well. We never developed star travel... and the first Cornerian traders to Cerinia arrived fifty years ago. Please... I need to know what happened."

"Ye drive a hard bargain, Guardian." The use of her new title caused her ears to perk. "Five hundred years ago, there were no Spellstones to counteract the raw magical energy that powers Sauria... just one huge Soulstone. The Krazoa Spirits were the Soulstone's only defense from destruction... for if the Soulstone was destroyed, Sauria would rip itself apart in no time."

Krystal nodded. "Just like the Spellstones do now, right?"

"Aye. Since only a fool would even think of destroying it, there was nae need for them to be defended... or so most Saurians thought. However... the leader of the Sharpclaw tribe had other plans. The bastard's name was Drakor. He was a heartless brute... even today most dinosaurs will cower in fear at the mention of his name. Drakor decided tae take the Soulstone for himself... for reasons even we cannae understand."

"Drakor took his most powerful soldiers tae the remote wastes where the Krazoa guarded the Soulstone. Even the Krazoa were no match; they were scattered tae the winds, unable to hold the Sharpclaw back. Drakor then smashed the Soulstone, and the planet started tae fall apart... much like it is now. When he did, the blast transformed him. Made him powerful... almost like a god."

Krystal nodded, motioning to the Warpstone to continue his story. It seened as if Drakor had been far more of a threat than Scales was... at least he had been defeated. That gave her hope... maybe they could actually save Sauria.

"Drakor wasn't a Sharpclaw anymore... he was a demon. All the other tribes sent their best warriors after the Sharpclaw... but they were slaughtered. It was hopeless... and we had nobody to call upon. In our darkest time... we needed heroes. The Krazoa gathered here and talked tae me... we put our heads together and sent out a message... telepathically. Maybe someone out there could help us; it was our last chance."

"And... Cerinians came to your aid." She sat back, her mind racing. The Krazoa were powerful spirits; most likely even greater than the Guardian Spirits she would have been sworn to protect. Several of them would have been powerful enough to send a telepathic message quite a distance. Even a star system away, Cerinians might have heard it.

"Aye, again. Ye have a sharp mind, Guardian. A week later five of yer kind simply... appeared right here. Where ye're sitting down, in fact. One almost fell intae my little pool." The Warpstone offered a mirthful chuckle into the air at the memory. "They asked how they could help, and I told them the whole story. They were powerful... all of them experienced Guardians... and one of them a high priest. They swore to protect Sauria at all costs, and they did."

"So... what happened?" Krystal was also puzzled at a few other questions. "How do all Saurians speak Cerinian... did they teach them?"

The monolith nodded at her. "They taught us a lot, aye. None of the Saurian tribes spoke the same language... and very few knew all the languages needed to communicate. After Drakor was defeated, they helped foster a common tongue... and everyone eventually started speaking it instead. However... the task they had before them was immense. They had to gather the fragments of the Soulstone... battling Drakor's forces all the way. Once they had all of them... they had to forge a new one."

An idea came to the vixen. "The four Spellstones... they're just parts of the Soulstone. The other Guardians managed to piece them back together and made four... so it would be harder to steal or destroy them."

"Correct, lass. They were also the ones that constructed the Force Point Temple tae deter thieves from taking them... and built the Krazoa Palace and shrines so the revered spirits would not be disturbed. The Spirits are as important to the survival of Sauria as the Spellstones are, lass. Without them... even if the Spellstones were returned tae their rightful places... the planet would continue tae crumble. The Krazoa are the only ones who can manipulate their power... to put everything back to normal."

"They did all this while clashing with Drakor's forces. It was nae easy, and they were beaten back more than once. Yet, the day came when they rallied together and confronted Drakor himself.... at the place now known as Dragon Rock. They were victorious, but at a great cost... the high priest was killed... and the chance of returning to Cerinia died with him."

She closed her eyes, the mention of Cerinia threatening to bring a fresh twist of pain to her heart. She didn't even know if anyone else was alive; was she the last Cerinian in existence? She just did not know, and that fact simply _hurt_. "They stayed here?"

"Aye. They split apart to live amongst the separate tribes... tae teach them their language and to act as ambassadors. They also helped design the Krazoa Palace tae provide a safe place for the Spirits... but eventually, as all mortal beings do... they passed from life. Very few of us remember them anymore, but those that do knew they had made a great sacrifice. We honor your kind, lass."

"Thank you for telling me." She slowly stood up, glancing at the Warpstone while trying to keep the tears from coming. "I.... understand what's at stake here. I shall do my best to honor them by making sure Scales does _not_ succeed." She left it at that and slowly made her way to exit the small lagoon, all the while her mind consumed by thought.

*------------------*

Krystal sighed as she walked down the path, the realization of what the Warpstone had told her weighing heavily on her mind. There was not one word written of the five Cerinians that had made the permanent trip to Sauria; left their homeworld on a risky journey to save the denizens of a planet they had never even seen before. Not only had they risked their homes and their lives, they also made Sauria a safer place, taught the scattered tribes how to communicate with each other... and lived out their lives among them.

And she was entrusted to keep their sacrifices from being in vain. It all fell upon her shoulders. She was barely a Guardian, with no real command over her inner power. She had her wits, fledgling abilities, and her staff to guide and protect her through it all. Cerinia was surely destroyed by the Venom military, and it looked as if they were trying to hunt her down. Her mother was killed, and she wasn't even sure if her father and brother made it from the system alive. Krystal closed her eyes, letting the seriousness of her situation sink in. For once, it was a great burden to bear, and....

...A splash of water from behind her snapped her attention back to the present. She turned around, almost gasping at the sight from behind the waterfall she had been walking near; chiding herself for not keeping her eyes and abilities open.

Brian was bathing in the same pool she had been several hours earlier. Part of her screamed at her to turn away, but her curiosity remained. Cerinians were covered in fur, but Brian didn't have any. She could clearly see his body working as he moved, scrubbing some sort of soap through his hair... something that was quite strange when compared to Cerinians or even Lylatians. All of them had some sort of fur, scales, or feathers... Brian only had bare skin. Krystal also noticed a marking on his right arm; some sort of stylized skull and words she couldn't quite make out... although she was glad that he was more than halfway immersed in the pool. Her ears flared up in a deep blush as she turned away... but not quick enough.

Brian apparently caught her movement out of the corner of his eye and turned around, immediately ducking down to the bottom of the pool... where only his head remained out of the water. "Jesus Christ!" he spat. "I thought you were a mindreader, Krystal! I'm sure as hell not decent!"

The vixen's blush intensified as she turned her back to him... her curiosity had gotten her a little in over her ears on this one. "I'm so sorry... I was very occupied. I had a chat with the Warpstone. Just tell me when you're ready, Brian... I have to talk to you about something." She was extremely embarrassed... as someone groomed for some _very_ powerful positions within the Cerinian government her interactions with males were severely limited. Had her world not been ripped apart she would most likely have gone through an arranged marriage... and she was expressly forbidden not to mingle with anyone her parents deemed unsuitable for the Council. Simply put, she had never even seen a male in such a state of undress, and to have walked up on her friend was something she was really sorry for.

His voice called back. "Gimme a few minutes, alright?" As she made her way back up the path, he sighed... at least he was relatively certain she hadn't really seen anything. _'Yeah, that wouldn't have ended well.'_ Brian quickly rinsed the rest of the shampoo out of his hair, then pulled himself out of the small pool. It didn't take long to dry himself off with the blanket, then hastily throw on his boxers, pants, and T-shirt. He emerged past the waterfall a moment later, his supplies in tow.

The vixen soon walked back down the path, the deep red tint to her ears apparent even to him. She was still blushing like a beet, which struck him as a little odd. This was the first time he had really seen her in the light. She looked like hell, almost. He could tell her eyes were a bit bloodshot as she approached, and the way she walked belied the fact she hadn't had much sleep at all. They were both running ragged, and they hadn't even really begun all of this. "I'm so sorry, Brian... I really should have watched out with my senses. Forgive me?"

"Don't worry about it." He might have been snarky with her last night, but knowing that he had been a little too hard on her made him go easy this time... it sounded like she was about to beat herself up for running into him like that. "No harm, no foul. I'm not pissed... I was just a bit surprised."

"I was as well. Intruding on a friend while they're bathing isn't common among my people... not that there isn't a first time for everything." She managed a short, nervous laugh... causing the Marine to arch an eyebrow.

Did she just make a pass.... no. She wouldn't have. "Apparently they don't have a YMCA on your planet." Brian deadpanned. The quizzical expression on her features was worth it... besides, giving her a good-natured ribbing might help ease some of the bad blood caused by last night. He _did_ have to work alongside her, after all. "But, really. I think I was a bit tough on you last night. I get defensive about my past... and Tricky told me about you refusing to leave my side until I woke up. You saved my life. Thank you."

Krystal took a moment to collect herself, forcing herself to clear her mind... the exhaustion and embarrassment were taking their toll. Still, the fact he wasn't angry at her intrusion and actually apologized for what had happened last night was a very good sign. She hoped she hadn't crossed the line with her earlier remark, but now wasn't the time to worry about it. "You're welcome, Brian. I know that this might be so soon after you've been hurt, but I need your help."

Brian nodded as he started making his way towards the Humvee, motioning to her. "I see. What's going on now?" Something told him it wasn't going to be good news, but around here that seemed to be all that came up... bad news. It pissed him off, in a way... he was finally free from all the obligations, regulations, and bullshit he had to deal with back home... but now he was pretty much fighting for his life. He had t be honest with himself... the situation quite well _sucked_.

"Well... do you remember the Queen Earthwalker telling us about the four Spellstones?" she inquired. At Brian's nod, she continued. "The Snowhorn you rescued in Ice Mountain is Garunda Te. He is a Gatekeeper; one who is tasked with guarding one of them. The Sharpclaw have it guarded in the Darkice Mines... we need to take it back."

"And, let me guess... We're going to march over there, blow some holes in some lizards, and grab the stone? Something tells me it's not going to be anywhere near that easy." Brian sighed as he reached the door to the military vehicle and opened it... pausing to look back at her. "They almost killed both of us. You might be a telepath, and I might be packing some serious firepower... but they're a damn _army_, Krystal."

The vixen countered, flashing him a grin. "They haven't had to deal with both of us at once, Brian. As long as we can work together without bickering... we will be just fine." _'I really hope we will, at least... we don't stand a chance if we can't work together.'_ She stood back a bit, simply looking at him. Her mind flashed back to the first time she saw the Marine, as a dim silhouette against a dark sky; a harbinger of death rushing in to save her life. She now knew that Scales capturing her would mean her death... and a major victory for the dictator.

Another fragment of memory flashed into her mind... Brian standing before her torn body with only a firearm, armor, and defiant attitude. He had saved her from Scales...he had saved her from death more than once. She had saved his life, that was true... but there was far more than that at stake. He was tormented with his own inner demons... and she had made the decision to help him with them, no matter what road lay ahead. The human had shown her kindness and compassion in her time of need, and she would be damned to the Void if she didn't do the same.

His voice shook her out of her reflection. "Even then, it's not going to be easy. I wish we had more resources... more people." The Marine sighed, leaning back against the armored vehicle and looking up to the sky. "We'd be able to clean their clocks if we had a decent fireteam. Hell, Rico and Jack would've been a damn decent help." He was thinking about his friends, his squadmates. Not like it mattered... he was effectively a dead man to everyone back home. He'd have a memorial service and his parents would get some sort of medal... he hoped so, because he'd be damned if Erica got her hands on it.

Krystal frowned and stepped towards him, a paw gently placing itself on his arm. He didn't turn away; instead allowing his gray eyes to stare into hers. Her emerald gaze fixed upon his as she spoke. "You miss your friends... I don't have to look into your mind to know that. You have lost as much coming here as I have... I just know that closing yourself off is the worst thing you can do. All I ask is for you to trust me. Together we can get through this."

"And by ourselves we'd be picked off before we even start out. I know this already, Krystal. You already know that this is way over my head. Talking dinosaurs, a planet that's tearing itself apart, magical items... it's like a damn Dungeons and Dragons story, only with a pissed-off Marine with an M14 instead of a knight in shining armor." Brian scoffed, glancing her over as she did him. Even after getting nearly killed, staying up over forty-eight hours just to help him, and looking as ragged as she did, she managed to keep a poise and elegance that, well, astonished him. He was bitching about what was going on and what they had to do... and she seemed to take everything in stride. Krystal had the patience of a saint, a quiet strength and an air of innocence... traits extremely rare to come by on Earth. Admittedly, he found her inner strength quite amazing.

"That's why both of us are going. Sauria isn't all that different from Cerinia... because my kind were here before. It's the reason why they speak my language; it's why we're trusted here. I will help you out as best I can... I promise you." she gave him a soft smile, letting go of his arm... yet her paw brushed against his hand for the briefest of moments.

Brian was about to protest, but the sincerity in her eyes caused him to stop. There was something about her that seemed different... much kinder than he would have been. He needed to shake it off... they had a mission to accomplish, and sitting there trying to figure out exactly what the hell she was up to wasn't going to do him a damn bit of good. "Alright. What do we have to do?"

"The mines are located in one of the larger separated sections of Sauria. Unfortunately, it's in orbit... so we need to use a spacecraft in order to get to it." Krystal pointed to the back of the Humvee. "I managed to find several large fuel cells last night... I think they were stolen from the Sharpclaw, but I'm not totally sure. We need to get back to my ship and see if it can be repaired... it's our only way to the separated parts of Sauria."

This caused Brian to balk, his eyes widening at what she was suggesting. "Your ship? I didn't take an expert look at it in the dark and all, but I'm pretty sure the damn thing's torn up pretty good... not to mention you're talking about taking an _unarmed craft_ up there... where God knows what might be hanging out up there... waiting to blow us to bits!"

Krystal shook her head. "The shuttle _is_ armed, Brian. Not very well, but it is. Cerinia didn't have many spacecraft... and we made sure all of them had some sort of protection just in case we needed to fend off raiders or pirates. They didn't do too well against the Venom military... but it will be able to protect us." She sighed, glancing down to the ground. "I don't know anything about fixing it. I need your help, Brian."

"I don't happen to be a spaceship mechanic either, Krystal. I guess I can try my best, but if it doesn't work we're going to have to find some other way. The Sharpclaw have access to spaceships, as well... I saw one when I grabbed Tricky off of Ice Mountain. If we can find and infiltrate one of those we might be okay."

"If we can't get my shuttle running, we will do that." The vixen nodded before she skirted around the Humvee. "We aren't going to do anything just standing here... we need to go." making is decision for him, she made her way for the passenger door and opened it... climbing in after she had moved his weaponry out of the footwell.

With a sigh Brian climbed up into the driver's seat, shutting the bulky door behind him. Krystal followed suit before glancing at him. "The shuttle also has a storage bay for hovercraft... if we can get it working we should be able to bring this vehicle with us... and that will be a major advantage against the Sharpclaw we will face there." The vixen gave him a grin as he pushed the button to start the engine... filling the cabin with its diesel rumble.

"I guess we should get this dog and pony show on the road, then. Here goes nothing." With that, Brian shifted the Humvee into gear and gently eased it out of the valley they had called home for the past few days.


	14. Chapter 13: Poles Apart

**Update: Another chapter from me this quickly? It sure seems that way. I'm not sure how quickly or how slowly chapters will come, but I am starting school in about a month from now. The downside is that it will take up quite a bit of my free time... but the upside is that I won't have much else to actually do with my free time but write and the occasional video game. I guess I'll see how quickly I can produce with the upcoming classload.**

**To be honest, my last chapter was a disappointment. There isn't much action in this one, but rest assured the bullets(and staff blasts) will start flying in the next one. I'm concentrating on some major character development in this one, and there's a bit of a surprise towards the end. Whether you flame me for it or jump for joy remains to be seen, but my editor has reacted with "it's about damn time," to quote him.**

**The song Brian sings(no skipping forward, thank you) is a tune called _Nutshell_, by Alice in Chains. I'm not a huge fan of songfics, but if you are interested take a search on Youtube for it.... I greatly recommend the live version off their 'Unplugged' performance as that was the one I was listing to while I wrote the scene. Another piece I have been listening to throughout writing this chapter is the basis of its namesake... _Poles Apart_, by Pink Floyd. That's another good one to look up and listen to when you have the time to do so.**

**Now... something else I need to bring up. You need to review this story. Yes... _you_. For those who haven't posted stories on this site, I can actually look at viewing statistics. This story has received nearly two-hundred views since I posted the last chapter... and a very good chunk of them looked to be new readers. So, really... don't be shy. If you liked the story, post up a review saying so... likewise if you think it's a piece of junk not worth the few kilobytes of hard drive space it occupies on some server somewhere. Either way, give me details... it's what I thrive on. This story has effectively reached novel length, and I'm fairly sure it's going to be about as large as something from Ayn Rand by the time it's finished... I do greatly appreciate you sticking to it for so long.**

**And finally, special thanks to my editor, JyrFalcon345, for quite a bit of advice and even some outright rewriting from his part. Without his help this chapter would have been _months_ in coming, so please thank him by checking his story out and giving him some reviews. **

Chapter 13: Poles Apart

The noisy diesel rumble from the Humvee still resounded through the cabin. They had finally arrived at the shuttle; a two-hour trek from the Hollow mainly due to the poorly-maintained trail system the Saurians used to get around. Brian frowned as he looked up at the craft's superstructure... he was no aeronautical engineer but it was plainly apparent that the shuttle had seen better days.

Several massive dents marred its hull, making it look like a toy that had been cast away by giants. The midday sun revealed that it was in fact armed; a solitary gun of some sort jutted out just below what he assumed to be the cockpit. Unless they wanted to stow aboard a Sharpclaw transport, it would have to do.

"Okay... we're here. Time to get to work." Brian spoke the first words from either of them since they started off on the trip. He could tell Krystal was extremely exhausted, and the sullen look she gave him was far different than the demeanor she had shown a mere few hours ago.

"Then what are we going to do?" the vixen huffed, turning to stare out the window. "We have to climb up into that hatch, stumble around blindly, and then somehow get the Melos-damned thing running." She turned back to him and scoffed. "Maybe you actually _did_ have the better idea. Hijack a Sharpclaw transport... I say our chances are about even."

The Marine grit his teeth... he wasn't expecting _that_ kind of response. "Besides... we'd be looking for hours trying to find one of their transports now. I don't know if you could tell, but it's not like I can pull into a truck stop and ask for diesel fuel, now can I?" He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at her as he spotted the open hatch on the side of the craft. He estimated it was eight feet off the ground... with the Humvee standing at six feet, that made his next course of action obvious. Brian guided the vehicle over to the side of the ship, speaking as he did so. "Listen... we agreed that we'd try this. You asked me to, and I'm doing it... and you being tired and snarky isn't enough of an excuse."

Krystal shot a glare at him. "I'm just fine, Brian. I simply cannot understand why you're so determined to get this shuttle running when you suggested taking a Sharpclaw vessel in the first place." The vixen huffed and crossed her arms... yes, she _was_ tired, but she wouldn't let him know just how much it was really affecting her.

"Because taking over a damned spaceship is a pretty big deal for the two of us... especially when you take into account that you've been up for nearly three damn days." Brian cut the Humvee's engine and undid his seatbelt... taking the opportunity to squirm into the vehicle's back seat. "I don't push the men under my command that far. Asking that of someone who was just recently seriously wounded as well as sleep deprived is simply begging for trouble."

Krystal turned around, her ears flattening in a clear display of anger. "The reason why I am what you call 'sleep deprived' is because of you, Brian!" She scoffed, slapping a paw on the back of the driver's seat. "You were hurt far worse than I was, and I was making sure you were okay. I saved your _life_. You act like you don't care!"

The Marine narrowed his eyebrows, gray eyes meeting her emerald ones in a mute contest of will. He had no idea what caused her demeanor to change over the course of a couple of hours, but there had to be _some_ reason for it. "I _do_ care, Krystal. The fact that I'm not going to take you out into combat until you're good and ready shows that. You're tired, snarky, and probably afraid... that's why I'm going in there. Alone." He reached into the cargo compartment, grabbing his pack and pushing it through the gunner's turret. Afterwards he selected the remaining M4 from the back, making sure it was in working order. "Just stay here and don't come after me unless it's an emergency."

"I'm not going in... there." Her voice was full of annoyance, but there was some hesitation behind it. That caused him to pause for a moment. He wasn't a telepath, but the fact she was actually _afraid_ of what may be in there was plain as day. At least for the moment, he couldn't count on her as backup.

"Fine." This time he actually rolled his eyes at her, not even taking the time to gauge her reaction. Brian simply pulled himself out of the turret, taking a good look around as he emerged. The forest was in fact empty... the only signs of what had happened a few days ago were his earlier tire tracks and what looked suspiciously like bloodstains baked into the dried mud. The lizardmen had been here, then. After he slung his pack onto his shoulders, he grabbed his carbine a little tighter... hoping beyond hope he didn't have to use it... but fully expecting to.

His eyes glanced to the open hatch of the shuttle and the dim surroundings within. The ledge was just two feet up; easy enough for him. He took a step towards it before Krystal's voice called out to him. "Brian." He glanced down to see her staring up at him... the edge in her voice seemed to disappear. "Be careful." In fact, it was almost pleading... perhaps she was a hell of a lot more tired than she thought.

"Always." After that he stepped up into the shuttle... letting his eyes adjust to the dim light for a moment. The room he had delved into appeared to be an airlock... all cold, gray metal and architecture designed expressly for form. A few display screens stared blankly at him... next to a few metal lockers.

Curiosity took over as he pulled one open... it took a healthy tug to do so. Inside sat what could only be a spacesuit. Instead of being a bulky contraption he had seen on NASA documentaries, it looked about as cumbersome as the NBC gear he had been required to train in during boot camp. The helmet wouldn't fit him... it looked just about perfect for someone of Krystal's stature. "Probably designed for her species in mind." Brian mused, shutting the locker.

He could see a dim hallway beyond the airlock. What surprised him was what he could see from the little light streaming in. The actual interior of the shuttle seemed as well-decorated as a hotel suite... dark wood paneling on the walls and royal blue carpet. Intrigued, he pressed onward into the ship.

*-----------------------------*

While navigating the upper level of her shuttle had proven easy due to the excess of viewports and the light they allowed in, the lower level was going to prove an exercise in frustration. With a sigh Brian pulled his nightvision goggles over his eyes, allowing the pitch-black stairwell below to be cast in its familiar lime-green glow.

Even though the goggles worked, it was immediately apparent that there were no light sources within the bowels of the dead ship. Even the goggles needed a small amount of ambient light to work correctly, and the tiny bit given off by their infrared emitters wasn't really enough to see by. Brian fumbled down the stairs more by touch than by sight. "Christ... like a damn coal mine down here." he muttered.

The irate Marine reached the bottom of the stairwell after a few minutes of letting his eyes adjust to the dim interior... the goggles gave off enough definition to make out a hallway in front of him, and openings to either side. A thick chemical scent crossed his nose... something vaguely familiar yet he couldn't place it. His right hand clenched around the pistol grip of his M4... just in case he had to use the weapon.

The 'doorway' off to his right seemed like the best bet for him to go... perhaps he could find something that would help him get this ship started. As he stumbled his way through the doorway, the odor of the chemicals intensified... it was like someone had decided to burn a bunch of plastic in the room. Without any ambient light, it was impossible to see even with the nightvision goggles. Brian sighed... then he remembered something.

He set down his combat pack and opened it up... the fuel cell he had wrapped up inside casting a very dim glow over the room. That was enough ambient light to make the goggles work, and he could tell that he had wandered into a medical bay of some sort. Two examination tables flanked him, surrounded by equipment he could half-ass identify and some that looked far beyond his limited scope of knowledge. Those were trumped, however, by the piece of equipment he spotted against the back of the room.

It looked like a coffin, complete with an open lid. In fact, it pretty much _was_. As he moved closer, he could tell it was the source of the strange smell... lumps of congealed goo lay scattered around it, and the interior of the 'coffin' was partially filled with it. Brian reached out to touch the stuff with a glove-covered hand... finding that the stuff had the consistency of mushy Jello. He glanced at the lid to find a bunch of tubing and what looked like some sort of mask dangling from it... then it hit him.

This was the stasis pod Krystal had told him about.. the one she had been shoved in after her planet was attacked. The scent was definitely familiar... she had been coated with the very same goo. Brian drew a heavy sigh... she had definitely had a much rougher ordeal arriving on Sauria than he did. "Good Lord..." he whispered to the darkness.

He was starting to realize just what she had been through. To her, it had only been mere minutes after her mother had been shot dead right in front of her... being placed in that stasis chamber and awakening on this God-forsaken planet with nothing except her staff and the dead ship he currently was checking out. He had the luxury of having an armored Humvee and enough firepower to level a small building. Maybe he really _didn't_ have anything to complain about.

With another sigh he wiped the gel from the stasis pod off of his glove and stood up. If this was the medical bay, that probably meant that the other room was the way into the engine compartment... and that's where he needed to go to refuel the ship.

His assumption was right, as the pale green glow of his nightvision revealed what looked to be the engine room. It was larger than he figured... there were a few benches built into the walls, as well as several tools and what looked to be shop machinery. He was surprised for a moment, yet it would be logical to have a small workshop... maintenance would be a hell of a lot easier when you had the ability to overhaul everything and not even leave the damn room to do it.

The engine itself was mounted at the back of the room... it looked like a lump of parts mashed together in an arrangement that would make an average nuclear bomb look simple in comparison. "Just great..." Brian sighed... how would he figure out how to refuel it?

As he approached, his eyes caught labels on several pieces of equipment. They were handwritten in a strange-looking language... most likely Krystal's native tongue. The thought crossed his mind to go back up there and drag her down... kicking and screaming if he had to... to translate, but perhaps they were translations themselves?

He rubbed at one of the labels, blinking in surprise as it fluttered to the floor. As he looked up he stared at what was beneath. The words kicked him in the face. This was by all means an alien spaceship, but the words stamped into the metal were in perfect English. _'Secondary Power Cell Port'_. He got it in one. There looked to be a cover next to it, which he opened... revealing a hollow 'tunnel' of sorts just big enough for the power cell. The answer was obvious enough, so he slid the glowing orb in and closed the cover... only to be greeted by darkness.

"Ah, fuck." Brian spat, noticing that he had lost the only power cell he had brought with him... and he was now reduced to fumbling his way up the stairs in the total darkness. As soon as he turned around the world went white... his goggles lit up snow-white like Reno on a Saturday night. The brightness stabbed into his eyes like daggers, causing him to cry out... hands swiftly removing the offending electronics from his face.

He was now bathed in clean, white light; his ears filled with the sounds of awakening electronics. As he blinked the afterimage away and shut off his goggles, he was greeted with a voice.

_**"Galand Shipyards Shipboard Operating System Version 3.467 active. The current date is 24 December, 3048 LDC. The current time is 16:07 Cornerian Standard. Warning: Primary power cell compromised. Shutting down for safety measures. Warning: Power reserves extremely low. Please insert up to six fuel cells into secondary power cell for proper operation." **_The voice was male, and strangely enough sounded like a calm, yet slightly digitalized human voice. After a moment it continued. _**"Ship Administrators Krystal Haleth or Maloc Haleth not detected onboard. Security measures activated. Please contact Ship Admistrators for proper access rights. Operation of ship's **__**computer or bridge controls by unauthorized personnel prohibited."**_

Brian breathed a sigh of relief... the ship's computer wasn't about to unleash killer robots or laser turrets to vaporize his ass. "Merry fuckin' Christmas, eh?" that was another strange occurrence... they used the Gregorian calendar? That itself made him pause... how the hell was an alien civilization using standards that were developed on Earth hundreds of years ago? There wasn't really much he could do about it... all he really _could_ do was to get back up and try to drag Krystal back into the ship.

*---------------------------*

Krystal found herself startled to half-awareness by the clatter of boots on the roof of the Humvee. She blearily looked up through the turret to see Brian climbing back in... a pensive expression on his face. As soon as he settled into the driver's seat she felt her mind reach out to his almost out of its own accord... she was crossing dangerous territory by reading his thoughts uninvited. Before she could withdraw an image hovered in her mind, one which sent a bolt of panic that snapped her fully awake... he had seen the stasis chamber.

All her exhausted, confused thoughts could grasp was the sense of panic, the cold, and the fear of suffocating in a dark pit. It took all her remaining mental reserves not to kick open the armor-plated door next to her and run as far away as she could... away from the ship of death which had nearly become her tomb.

"I think I got everything working." Her fear halted in its tracks, brought to a temporary standstill by the sound of his voice. It was as if her friend had become the only way to stop the tide of memories which threatened to consume her. Gone was the confident, self-assured Guardian working to save an entire planet from its ruthless leaders... a scared, confused kit took her place. Yet... there was something about her stolid human comrade which seemed to keep her emotions from erupting... at least for the immediate moment.

Her eyes were fixed to him as he reached out towards the button to start the Humvee. Did they need to find more fuel cells? Would she be spared the ordeal of having to even be inside her ship? The diesel engine caught with a rattle, and Brian put the armored truck into gear. As they started backing up, Krystal realized he had other intentions."I managed to get that cargo ramp down. It'd be a good plan to take this sucker... we may need the extra firepower when we get to those mines."

The sense of relief she had felt was washed away, replaced by sheer panic. She couldn't let him she was about to burst."Wait." She glanced at him, the edge in her voice becoming razor-sharp. "I don't see how we're going to fly it, Brian. Why can't we hide away on a Sharpclaw transport? It would be safer... Melos knows what might be up there!" The words sounded hollow even to her... but she was _not_ about to go back into her shuttle.

Brian's combat boot-clad foot slammed on the brake pedal, slamming them back into their seats. Krystal didn't need to read him to tell he was irate. The edge in his voice matched hers... verbal blades sparring in the awkward silence. "I just started that damn thing up!" Brian snarled at her, causing her to recoil at his outburst by shrinking back into her seat. "I don't know what the hell your problem is, but your exhausted, snarky behavior is starting to piss me off." He removed his hand from the steering wheel, punctuating his argument by aiming a finger at her muzzle as if he were scolding a pet. "_You're_ the one who said you wanted to try getting this ship running. _You're_ the one who said you might be able to fly it. Why the hell are you getting cold feet, Krystal? You're starting to sound just like Erica... jumping in with both feet and complaining that the water's fucking cold!"

She wasn't sure what happened. The anger in his voice cut through the last shred of self control she had... the anger, fear, and panic rose through her like a tempest. The conscious thought to lash out had only just crossed her mind before she felt her arm drawing back to strike.

She had reacted with lightning speed, her paw slamming into Brian's cheek. His head snapped to the side, a burning sensation exploding across the left side of his face. Dazed as he was, he caught a glimpse of her laid-back ears and bared teeth before she ripped into him like a tiger would wounded prey. "Don't you _ever_ compare me to your failed lifemate, Brian! I have _nothing_ in common with a _mulak_ like her!"

Krystal dimly felt her paw clench itself into a fist; her arm drawing back for another strike at the Marine... her vision practically red with anger and her actions fueled with fear. As Brian clumsily steeled himself to block her next blow, his eyes fell on hers. They were full of surprise... _'Why?'_ they seemed to ask.

The realization of what she was doing hit her like a bolt of lightning. The strike she had prepared to deliver would have broken bones. She had been ready and willing to harm her friend... she had succumbed to a Guardian's worst enemy. Fear. Her paw felt like a lead weight, and she eagerly gave up the struggle to keep it aloft. It fell into her lap as her eyes clouded up with tears. "What have I done?" She asked herself.

Fear. The fear of what had happened in the past, the fear of damage already done... events that would not be erased from her mind no matter how much she ran from them; no matter how much she covered them up. Her exhaustion and her fear had nearly pushed her over the brink. They had driven a wedge between her and Brian. He was her only friend here... quite possibly the only friend she had left... and she had done a wonderful job trying to destroy that. "I... I'm sorry." Her gaze fell... she didn't want him to see the tears coursing down her cheeks.

"It's okay." His response was devoid of anger... his voice was as smooth as glass, yet laced with concern. He forced himself to calm down... something was wrong, and much more wrong than he previously thought. Krystal remained unresponsive, her head hung low... her entire frame hitching with silent sobs. Brian realized he had to do something.... right or wrong, he _had_ to.

Hesitantly, his hand reached out across the gulf between their seats. Their friendship was hanging by a fragile thread, and what he was about to do ran the risk of snapping it... something which would ultimately hurt them both. His hand fell upon her paw, wrapping around it. For the briefest of moments, the soft sensation of her fur brushing against his palm caused his mind to stop. As she shifted he prepared to back off... only to feel her paw move to wind around his digits.

"What's wrong? This isn't like you, Krystal." Yet, there was no response. Her paw wrapped around his hand even tighter; as if she were afraid of the consequences of letting go. Her only utterance was an occasional sob, barely emerging from the Humvee's rumbling idle.

Brian sat in silence, his concern rising through his mind like a wave... yet helpless to do anything. His stinging cheek sat as a counterpoint to his grieving friend... but after a moment he realized something. Both of them were in the same boat, yet they stood poles apart. Like her, he had lost pretty much everything... yet he knew that all his family and friends were _alive._ He couldn't even begin to understand the anguish she was going through, but there was not a damn thing he could do about it.

After a moment he felt her paw's grip loosen, then go limp entirely. A bolt of alarm shot through his heart as he leaned forward to make sure she was really okay. His hand traveled to her shoulder, and it was then he had noticed that she had passed out. The Marine sighed, turning his attention towards the Humvee. Whatever consequences came from the past few minutes would have to be dealt with later... lives were depending on them, personal issues or no.

The Humvee rolled up the cargo ramp effortlessly, although its prodigious height made it barely fit. He had no idea what Cerinians or other Lylat residents used for personal transportation, but he sincerely doubted they drove around armored recon vehicles with mounted machine guns. His eyes cast themselves to his comatose friend... he would take care of her first. He owed her that much.

The cargo bay was a tight fit for the Humvee in more ways than one. He barely had enough clearance for its width, and getting the doors open were a pain. He found himself climbing over Krystal's sleeping form just to get her door open... and he sustained a good whack from the heavy armored portal simply squeezing both of them out of it. He still managed to do so without waking her up... although he had his doubts if anything really could wake her up until she was good and rested.

The primary obstacle out of the way; carrying her into the now-operational shuttle was fairly easy. There had to be a bedroom of some sort... the shuttle was for all intents and purposes a flying hotel suite.

The cargo bay opened directly into what looked to be the main living area. To his left was the short hallway to the airlock, which flanked the mostly walled-off kitchen. That had been ransacked... something he wasn't too sure the Sharpclaw had a hand in doing. The living area had a few couches and tables, but he wasn't about to dump her on a couch.

A door off to one side held the best promise... taking great care with the slumbering vixen he tapped it with his boot, causing it to swing open. Another hallway was revealed, flanked with a few more doors and a set of stairs at the end. Brian's luck continued to hold out as he took an immediate left.

The bedroom was decked out in the same paneling and carpet as the rest of the ship... easily the rival of the Vegas hotel suite he had spent his honeymoon in. The place looked barely lived-in, but there were several personal touches scattered throughout... looking more like a hasty attempt to decorate a room which was barely used in the first place.

With a sigh he gently set Krystal on the bed... taking the time to throw the covers over her. "Rest easy, my friend.... you deserve it." There wasn't really anything else he could do. As he turned to go, however.... something caught his eye.

Wedged between what looked to be a chest of drawers and a table was a guitar. The Marine's eyes widened when he saw it. Not only did they speak English and use human dating conventions... they had guitars. Thankful for his first lucky break all day, he extracted the instrument from its resting place. It appeared to be an electric guitar... very lightweight yet solid at the same time. The design was nowhere near that of the Les Pauls or the Stratocasters he had played around with when he was younger, but it would do nicely.

Brian softly stepped over to the door, his new prize in tow. As he exited, he cast one last glance to her... and fervently hoped everything would be alright when she awakened.

*---------------------------*

Consciousness came to Krystal in stages... her body awakening bit by bit; step by step. Her sleep had been devoid of dreams... for the first time since she arrived on Sauria. Her eyes fluttered open... for the first time in what felt like cycles, she felt truly rested.

The soft bed she was laying on was a reminder that she had not actually slept on one since a week before her Trials... and her time on Sauria had been far more grueling than the tests could have ever dreamed of being. The room was completely dark as well... she could tell her eyes were open, yet it didn't change anything.

Were they in her shuttle? Krystal shuddered a little bit at the memory, but tried to figure out what had happened. Her last clear memory was of climbing into Brian's military vehicle to go.... to the shuttle. The vixen sat up, allowing her mind to start delving into itself... the mystery of where they were was less important than the question of what had happened to her along the way.

The question of where was answered first... the lights slowly appeared; a dim, diffuse glow. She _was_ in the shuttle, then... in fact, she was in what would have normally been the stateroom assigned to her brother. One of four equally-equipped suites on the main level, the dark blue carpet and wood paneling was as comforting as it was saddening. Several pieces of Lylat technology Maloc had bartered for were displayed prominently throughout... just as he had always left it before they put the ship up for the season.

Krystal slid off the bed, sighing as she did so... were her father and brother still alive? Were there _any_ Cerinians left alive, or had the barbaric Venom forces killed everyone but her? The thought was sobering... if that was so, she was all alone. All alone except for Brian. Her mind dwelled on that as she padded over to the closet; maybe she could find something to wear that was more comfortable than the human battle dress she was swathed in.... although she doubted anything of her brother's would fit her.

Among the plethora of her brother's mostly Lylat-manufactured outfits, a flash of dark blue stuck out amongst the mostly garish reds, yellows, and oranges that her brother usually liked to wear. Maloc was one of a handful of Cerinians who owned a hoverbike. She rode with him occasionally, to the point where he had bought her a used flightsuit to use as protective gear. He usually kept it with him as she never really used it other than when riding... and he knew how to care for Lylat goods far better than she did. Her paw reached into the closet and extracted the one-piece garment... looking over its padded material with a critical eye. It was tight, yet allowed her a full range of motion... unlike the oversized, poorly-altered human clothing. The flightsuit would be somewhat more durable, judging by the fact the Marine fatigues were spotted with small rips and tears. It only took her a split second to decide... opting for the form-fitting outfit.

A few moments later she stood at the foot of the bed, looking down at the remnants of the alien clothing. Krystal closed her eyes, shifting into several of the defensive postures ingrained by years of training with the staff weapons most higher-caste Cerinians used.... her 'new' flightsuit stretching and accommodating her frame as if it wasn't even there. She was rested, attired in something other than ceremonial armor or human battle dress, and ready to continue with her mission to help save the denizens of Sauria... yet something was tugging at the back of her mind... something she was somehow forgetting.

A sigh echoed through her lips... it would come to her later. For now, she needed to take stock of her shuttle... to allay her fears and push through bad memories. Her teeth clenched at the thought of having to face any of it down, but she had to... that and she needed to figure out where Brian had gone off to.

*----------------------------------*

One of the benefits to being in a luxury shuttle was the fact the main rooms were completely soundproofed. As Krystal opened the door, a wall of sound hit her... music was being played at very loud volume just down the hallway, in the living area. The vixen recognized the sound as the 'guitar' instrument Brian had talked to her about; apparently he found a way to play his music through the Lylatian craft's internal speaker system.

No... that wasn't right. The melody was haunting and simple... a melancholy refrain which somehow seemed to reach down and tug at her very soul. She had no idea what human music was normally like, as the only songs Brian had played were the unnatural, screaming compositions he called 'grunge.' This was much slower; much more natural.

She froze in place as his voice echoed down the hall... he was singing along with the music. It was as if his voice had changed overnight; she had never heard it filled with such emotion.... even while they were arguing in the Queen's chamber. _"We chase misprinted lies..."_

She crept closer to the end of the hall as he continued, her ears perking up. Krystal was intrigued... he had a softer side? Singing along to music, and something other than the screaming, jumbled messes he had introduced her to?

_"And yet I fight... and yet I fight this battle all alone..."_ The vixen peeked out of the doorway to happen upon an astounding sight. Brian stood alone in the middle of the room with one of the Lylat-made artifacts her brother had collected. All she knew was that it was a sort of music device, and hadn't even noticed its absence from his room when she had awakened. That was the 'guitar' he had mentioned, then. Krystal knew better than to interrupt, so she simply stood there and watched...

*---------------------------*

_"And yet I find repeating in my head.... if I can't be my own, I'd feel better dead..."_ The old lyrics rolled off his tongue like water as the guitar's strings vibrated harshly against his fingers. The song wound down to a close... as well as his practice session. Brian had spent the past ten hours pouring over what he could find out about the ship. The manuals he had been able to access from the computer had proven invaluable... and the computer's operating system was about as easy to navigate as it got. Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, and even Linus Torvalds could have learned a few things from the unnamed Lylatian software engineer who coded it.

Yet, all that had been set aside as he hit the last few chords of the song he had been playing. With a nod of approval towards the guitar he had plucked out of the room he had left Krystal in, he set the instrument down... dusting his hands off before turning towards the terminal at the corner of the room.

A voice from behind stopped him before he had even taken a step forward. Krystal's British-esque accent was softer now, completely devoid of her earlier edge. It was as if their argument in the Humvee hadn't even crossed her mind. "I wouldn't have believed you could sing like that if you told me, Brian... that was beautiful." Her tone was that of mild awe... enough of a change that he had to turn around and glance at her.

Much more than her voice had changed. She had found something much different to wear, as well. He had been so used to her wearing the slightly too large set of standard-issue fatigues that her current outfit was... shocking.

A nearly skin-tight bodysuit hugged her frame... in a shade of blue somewhat darker than her fur and accentuated in bright white. He was sure she had found it in her room; definitely more practical with her reliance with her staff. He caught his eyes lingering a fraction of a second too long... while she was essentially an alien... he had to admit to himself she was attractive, especially in a getup like that.

Brian brought his concentration back by lightly biting the inside of his cheek... there was still the matter of what the hell had happened several hours ago. Better attitude and makeover aside, Krystal had some explaining to do. "Thanks." He started with acknowledging her compliment. "One of my favorites when I was a kid. Least you're in a more cheerful mood right now... I was getting concerned."

The cerulean vixen's expression was replaced with confusion. "What do you mean?" Her inquiry was stated as she stepped towards the couch he had been standing next to... her emerald eyes fixed upon his steel-gray ones.

The Marine scratched the growing stubble on his cheek... something told him she didn't remember a thing about their earlier fight. That was somewhat disconcerting; the fact of the matter was that her mental state had been torn to shreds by the time she passed out earlier... he wanted to know everything was in fact okay. "You don't remember _anything _ about what happened? The blowout fight we had?" He motioned to his other cheek, which still felt a little tender. "You even smacked me pretty good."

She peered closer, only now noticing the small bruise which hung upon his face. She hated to do so, yet she was having trouble figuring out what had gone wrong... she had struck him? She moved her paw upwards, gingerly reaching out for his face. He flinched for a split second, which caused her to frown. "I won't hurt you.... I just want to find out what I did." She edged just a step closer, her eyes locked onto his. As her paw brushed against his skin, it was like a bolt of lightning had hit her. Memories, emotions, and pain stabbed back at her as she clenched her teeth... shutting her eyes and bowing her head.

"I'm... sorry." Her heart felt like a lead weight in her chest... what she had done to him was outright betrayal. Peering into his mind, letting her fear overcome rational judgment... striking him. A lesser being would have simply said they had been incapable of controlling their own actions... but in this case she _was_. She had let herself down as well... neglecting her own needs. Both of them had suffered for it. "I may feel uncomfortable being here, but I shouldn't have reacted the way I did. I will keep my emotions more in check next time... I promise."

"Hey." Brian responded by placing a hand upon her shoulder... the material of her suit felt almost like leather, yet he could feel gel-like padding underneath. It felt strange under the palm of his hand, yet not in a bad way. _'Dammit, collect your thoughts and say your piece already!'_ He admonished himself. _'You're starting to act like a bumbling idiot!'_

"You've been through a hell of a lot more than I have, Krystal. It took me looking through this ship to understand that. You've had family and friends torn away from you forever... just like me. However... you don't have the comfort of knowing that they're okay." He sighed, gripping her shoulder maybe just a little too long for even is liking... but dammit, she needed some support. "I don't know what the outcome of this planet-saving business is going to be. I don't even know if we're going to make it through this. If we do... I'm going to help you find anyone who survived." She looked up at him after that, tears brimming in her eyes. They shone like brilliant gems, even through the pain they conveyed.

"Thank you..." The vixen whispered, leaning against him. She had embraced him before, but not without his armor... and he hadn't really returned any that she had given him. That had changed; his arms winding around her and pulling her even closer. Even in the same ship which nearly claimed her life she felt safe... protected. Without the rock-solid piece of body armor he usually wore he felt alive... real. She barely noticed the tears that spotted into the olive drab T-shirt he was wearing, but just focused on making sure she let the moment last... before it was torn away.

She remained there, simply tucked against him.... a single solitary thought running through her mind. With that came nervousness... nervousness and hesitation. Only now, she pushed that down... there would be no other way to do it. She looked up, although she didn't have to go too far. She was tall for a Cerinian, and was actually only a few inches shorter than Brian. Her muzzle almost collided with his nose, yet she didn't care. She locked her eyes with his, whispering the words which had been running through her thoughts. "She didn't deserve you."

Brian had only a split second to be confused, and not enough time to formulate a reply. Krystal slowly closed her eyes and straightened up just a little bit... enough movement for her to press her lips firmly to his. Instinctively his heart jumped and his arms guided her closer... pressing into the unexpected kiss. The sensation was electrifying... his mind stopped in bewilderment as they remained there, locked in each other's embrace.

It took a moment for his mind to become aware of what was happening. Almost instantly his inner voice screamed at him. _'What the _fuck_ are you doing, Lancing!?'_ The mental berating continued, his thoughts not exactly all in tune with each other. _'You just barely escaped Erica's clutches, and now you're locking lips with someone else? She's not even _human_, for Christ's sake!'_

That was all it took. As suddenly as it began he pulled away, noticing the mix of disappointment and embarrassment growing upon Krystal's features. He gently placed his hands upon her shoulders, separating their embrace with a sigh. "I'm sorry... I just can't do it, hon." Taking a deep breath and a step back, he continued to keep is gaze locked with hers. "Maybe if circumstances were different... but they aren't." He felt like a complete ass even saying that, but it was true.

Krystal's heart sank a bit... yet she full well knew that it was probably going to end like this. Even though her ears flared up in a deep blush, she nodded. "I understand." There was no reason to be angry at him... she had simply tried and failed.

"It's just that... we're about to be put to the test, and I can't be distracted about worrying about you that way. We need to have our heads clear in order to get through this." He flopped on the couch with another sigh. This pretty well sucked. "I've been reading the manuals... while you were sleeping, I got this ship pretty much ready to go."

She nodded, taking to sit down upon the couch as well. Unlike earlier, she opted to keep her distance... distracted with her thoughts. He was right, in a way... if they were too worried with looking out for each other, they might not see a dangerous situation for what it was until it was too late. As disappointed as she was... she would have to trust his judgment. "Then we leave at dawn. If we're going to do this, we might as well do it soon."

At the last moment an idea popped into her head. She reached out, placing a paw on his shoulder. "When we get back... we _are_ going to talk about this, Brian."


	15. Second Arc 1

**Notes: It's been an extremely long time since I've done anything to this story. Some of my frequent readers have noticed that I deleted some content in ZP. As of today it has been two years and three months since I've updated this story; an extremely long time indeed. I can't really offer any excuses, explanations, or anything else as to why it's been this long; only the hope that I won't hit a dead spot of this caliber. If you've been watching my other story, Man vs. Planet, you may have seen that I was going to do a rewrite of this story. **

** Unfortunately, sometimes with story ideas you can write yourself into a corner and there was no exception with this one. I simply had too many plot bunnies thrown into the proverbial soup. As it stands, I have deleted everything back to Chapter 13(the irony of this is not lost on me, I assure you)and will begin 'fresh' from that point. It's likely you'll notice a different style from my previous chapters; this is intentional.**

** All that said, there were story elements and plot points in the recently deleted chapters that will make it back into this version of the story; I've been reading many old reviews and have some ideas where to take it. There will also be new plot points to be added, characters to be introduced, and as you will see in a moment the Star Fox team has a more pivotal role in the story's plot(whereas before they were more of a minor side distraction).**

** Finally, I want to send out a huge thank you to Chaos Leader, author of the excellent **_**Star Fox: Legacy**_** series. His brainstorming and a few really good ideas set this series back onto my desktop and an update into your browser. If you haven't read his story yet, jump in and prepare to be amazed.**

**Now, onto the story.**

**Second Arc 1: **

**25 December 3048 LDC**

**06:20 Local Time**

**Corneria Defense Industries Orbital Platform ZX-1032**

The rust-furred vulpine hated waiting simply for the sake of waiting; the tense preparation of combat or extended downtime with nothing to do was one thing, but being kept waiting for some underworked and overpaid bureaucrat was something that he could never get used to. Fox McCloud had quite a bit of experience with these types. Even eight years after the end of the Lylat-Venom War, various corporations and governmental bodies had wanted the war hero's endorsement of their products or appearance at various functions. All of these involved this type of waiting; milling around until the aforementioned bureaucrats finally took their noses out of their datapads or kano cups and gave the Star Fox team the time of day.

Fox had been staked out in what was admittedly a very plush reception area. Not only was there plenty of kano to stay awake, but there was also a decently-stocked bar, plush faron leather couches, and a good selection of the latest holovids to choose from. The pilot was nursing a bottle of Fortunan ale, engrossed in an action vid he saw the adverts for a couple of days ago. The mere fact they had this flick a couple of days after it opened in theaters meant this was a pretty important station. CDI wouldn't have spent a healthy premium giving their visitors luxury accommodations unless this was a pretty important station, especially since this place was stuck in the armpit of the cluster.

The station orbited a planet which could barely be classified as such. The size of a large moon, it orbited the outer edges of its solar system. It was an airless hunk of rock; the database on the Great Fox mentioned its lack of any significant mineral deposits or tactical value. The entire system was nearly deserted; its red dwarf star and lack of any terraformable planets within its habitation zone made it the home to a couple of mining operations and corporate outposts. Bluntly put, this was a pretty good place for any of the Lylatian Government's secret projects.

A harsh vibration against his side followed by a high-pitched beep drove Fox from both his thoughts and the movie. With a barely audible grumble he stabbed the pause button on the holoprojector's remote and picked up the offending piece of electronics. "Yeah, Pep?" He didn't bother checking the communicator's display; the only one who would be contacting him was Peppy. Slippy was currently up to his eyeballs in the bowels of the _Great Fox_; his technical genius was the only thing keeping the massively automated cruiser working.

"They still keeping you waiting, Fox?" Peppy's voice rang into his ear. Peppy was a reliable sort and had become a surrogate father to him after his old man died on Venom. He also hated this meaningless waiting. "I don't see why George would have us come out all this way for nothing."

"Pepper has his reasons, Pep." Fox responded, referencing the team's liaison with the Lylatian military. General George Pepper was one of Peppy's closest friends and well-liked by his command. He may have been running a desk rather than a dreadnaught these days, but he was a dedicated soldier. While Star Fox got all the glory for supposedly singlehandedly destroying the Venom Armada and killing Andross Oikonny, it was in fact Pepper's strategies and diversion tactics which gave the team a clear shot at victory. "He mentioned something about a job, and we all know we sorely need some income. Slippy's reports are definitely bad news for the _Great Fox_ unless we get her some quality time in a space dock."

"I understand that." Peppy retorted. "However, we passed up a good escort opportunity just coming here, and that was our meal ticket for the next couple of months." He had a point; companies paid handsomely to have high-value convoys escorted by Star Fox. Pirates who were willing to attack well-defended merchant liners typically turned tail and ran when they were up against the mercenary team. "We can't afford to wait much longer, even for George."

"I'll give them an hour, okay?" Fox groaned inwardly. The frustrations of running a small merc team never went away. He simply switched off the communicator, his point being made. The payout provided by a government contract, especially when it came from Pepper, was in his opinion worth waiting for. Two years ago they were tasked with wiping out one of the last remaining Remnant outposts; that gave the _Great Fox_ a partial refit as well as gave them a solid month's worth of vacationing on Aquas while the repairs were being done. If Pepper was involved it meant something big was on the horizon. Big risks, but big payout.

About thirty minutes later he heard his name being called. "Excuse me, Mr. McCloud?" He turned around to see the receptionist, a tall wolfess, standing in front of the door which led to the rest of the facility. Her grey fur contrasted very well with her blue uniform and shy smile, which he returned. "We're sorry to keep you waiting, but Mr. Wester will see you now."

Fox resisted the temptation to complain about waiting five hours. He was a little irked, yet not enough to forget the cardinal rule of a mercenary: Be nice to the client. Paychecks didn't come easy and a contract from a military contractor kept the Great Fox working and something a little healthier than Insta-pasta in the galley.

The receptionist escorted him past several security doors and into the station proper. His practiced eye noticed details most casual visitors missed, such as the doors made from cruiser-grade armor plating and the lack of armed guards. The barely visible hatches in the floor and ceiling hinted to automated turret defense systems; whatever they had in this facility was guarded well enough to hold back a company of Remnant troops.

After being led into an elevator, Fox tried to make conversation. "So, what do you guys make here, anyway?" He was greeted only with a polite smile and a shake of the head; the receptionist wasn't about to give out any information. She didn't even give him the standard corporate babble about diversified interests and being on the forefront of innovation. She was, in fact, eerily silent.

The elevator opened up into a long corridor flanked by massive plate windows. As they strode past he could tell there was a large-scale manufacturing operation taking place. Assembly lines were gearing up, and an army of workers clad in white jumpsuits scurried around the factory floor like a hive of insects. Fox saw what looked like small arms components such as stocks and barrels being made, but the actual assembly seemed to be taking place elsewhere. That in and of itself was strange even for a military contractor, CDI's main focus was ship-mounted weapons systems such as the LP-3130 laser cannons built into his Arwing. Why would they be branching into the incredibly competitive small arms industry?

At the end of the hall they reached another security door. Beyond that they reached their destination, a rather lavish conference room with a nearly 360-degree view of the manufacturing operation. An ornate wooden table stood in the middle of a sea of plush royal blue carpet, such natural luxuries being quite rare to come across in a weight-conscious orbital platform. The table had a built-in holoprojector, which currently displayed a rotating CDI logo. There were several men milling about the conference room, one of which was General Pepper. His bright red Cornerian Navy uniform stood out amongst the lab coats and suits the others wore.

"Mr. Wester?" The receptionist announced their entry. "Fox McCloud, of the Star Fox mercenary team." One of the suits stood up, making his way towards Fox with a confident gait which suggested he had the rule of the roost here.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. McCloud." The brown tabby feline extended a hand towards the pilot, which he took with a firm handshake. "I'm Rudi Wester, Vice President of Operations for CDI." He motioned to his cadre, introducing them as well. "That's my assistant, Gareth Halsey." A nervous-looking otter seated at the table nodded at him, immediately returning to the datapad he held. "And these are the lead engineers of our latest project, Ivan Khitrovo and Yuri Trubachev." He motioned to two more or less nondescript, older canids at the other end of the table, discussing amongst themselves in hushed tones. Other than their strange names, Fox could tell they were not speaking Lylatian. In fact, he had no idea what language the two were actually speaking.

"And, you already know General George Pepper." Pepper gave a wave towards Fox, which the pilot returned. This was already an awkward meeting, but having an old friend present helped. He wasn't even sure what sort of job they had for the team, but something told him this was far from being an ordinary escort mission. "If you would, let's get seated and start. We've kept everyone waiting long enough."

Fox took a seat next to Pepper, offering him an inquisitive glance. The older hound said nothing; opting to point towards to the two scientists as Wester started what seemed like a combination presentation and briefing. "First off, I would like to admit that standard board meetings like these aren't my style. Since Mr. McCloud hasn't been briefed on Project Firestorm, we're going to pull out all the stops. Before we begin, I wanted a representative from the LDF as well as one of the best soldiers in the System to observe and test what we have come up with."

The feline executive bent underneath the table for a moment, extracting a meter-long obsidian case which was placed on the surface in front of Fox. Wester undid two catches upon it, reveling what lay inside. The vulpine blinked at the sight. "This is a standard issue LC87 blaster carbine made by Laken Armaments." The tried and true carbine was a mainstay of LDF forces as well as the majority of licensed mercenary teams. In fact the LC87 was his go-to weapon on missions where he needed a bit more firepower than his personal Karsher Vangard pistol.

"Very astute, Mr. McCloud." Wester nodded. "As you know the LC87 is the primary infantry weapon of the LDF and is known as one of the most reliable blasters in service today. Easy beam focal adjustments, redundant power couplings, and a virtually shockproof emitter array are why it has its legendary reliability. The Arwing may have been our ace in the hole during the Venom War, but the LC87 was what our ground victories during the war were won with. However, the LC87 has a major weakness."

Fox blinked again, his focus switching from the rifle on the table to the cat standing a few meters away. "I need to say that this is a strange introduction for a new infantry weapon, Mr. Wester. You brought out what has to be the most common blaster rifle in the system and you're telling us how good it is. What sort of weakness are you talking about?"

"I find that a demonstration trumps a long-winded presentation." Wester gestured to his assistant who flipped a switch out of Fox's line of sight. What appeared to be an old-fashioned projector screen descended from the ceiling of the conference room, blocking out a substantial portion of the view. As the screen locked into place he gestured to the vulpine. "Would you be so kind as to shoot the screen in front of you, Mr. McCloud?"

"What? You're asking me to fire a weapon _here_?" The LC87 would be powerful enough to punch through even heavy structural glass, unless they were talking starship-grade viewports. In that case the blaster bolt would simply ricochet and likely hit one of them. What he was asking was dangerously reckless at best and suicidal at worst. "I'd be putting us in danger if I did that. At risk of losing a contract I have to refuse." He glanced to Pepper, who didn't make any sign of his approval or disapproval for his decision.

"A prudent decision, Fox. You passed my first test, actually. I need a mercenary who won't needlessly put lives at risk. I do, however, still need to provide my demonstration." Wester plucked the LC87 out of its case, shouldered it, and pulled the trigger. As Fox cringed he noticed nobody else seemed that fazed at the executive's actions, especially the calm, professional air at which he fired the weapon.

The LC87 emitted a harsh, pulsing whine accompanied by a blazing orange particle beam which impacted the screen almost instantaneously. Miraculously it held, a bright blue splash emitting from the screen as the bolt hit it. The target remained, without any indication that it had even been hit. Without a word Wester engaged the carbine's safety catch and placed it back into its case.

"What you saw there was a standard six kilojoule beam from a blaster rifle impacting one of the newest technologies in personal body armor. Elements of Remnant forces have now managed to integrate electromagnetic shield generators into light combat armor. As you can tell, anyone with one of these generators is very well protected against blaster fire. This is why we initiated Project Firestorm. Take it from here, Ivan." Wester motioned over to one of the canids before sitting down.

Surprisingly, the scientist who stood up had the build of a nightclub bouncer; he wore his labcoat like an ill-fitted suit. Furthermore Fox's eye could tell by his movements that he likely had a soldier's background. He didn't know much about the weapon development process, but leave it to a soldier for a more efficient way around a tactical problem. Ivan spoke in a thick, gutteral accent despite his flawless Lylatian. "Yuri and I spent several years trying to figure out how best to defeat Venom combat armors. Our breakthrough was actually quite simple. We use technology of the past to defeat technology of the future."

"You see, modern blasters have been around for over six hundred years yet have changed little in their general concept. They are simple, reliable, high capacity, and accurate. However, they are defeated by these new energy shield systems as well as the ceramic plating on heavily armored spacesuits. The shields repel a blaster's particle beam and the ceramic can simply absorb the heat energy without compromising the wearer. This is why EVA infantry units such as Venom's Eradicators and the LDF Vac-Hards use heavy weapons such as plasma rifles, grenade launchers, and even scaled-down starfighter blaster cannons."

Pepper spoke up, his gruff voice adding a counterpoint to the accented Lylatian. "Those weapons are prohibitively expensive and are quite dangerous without intense training and discipline. The only forces who use plasma rifles outside of boarding parties are pirates. Even if you were to make a mass-produced, inexpensive plasma rifle you're looking at fifty meters in range at best and the intense heat would cause massive collateral damage."

"That is quite right, General." Ivan continued. "So, we have a pronounced need for an infantry weapon which will defeat these shields at a nominal cost. This is why I said technology of the past can defeat technology of the future, threats which these shields aren't equipped to handle."

Ivan extracted another obsidian case from underneath the desk, this time opening it and presenting the weapon within for Fox's benefit. The vulpine's eyebrows scrunched as he tried to figure out what to make of it. The weapon looked primitively simple, a composite stock and forearm surrounding the alloy workings and barrel of the weapon. What looked like a secondary barrel rested atop of the main one, yet Fox could tell that any emissions from it would collide with the front sight. There didn't seem to be any sort of power ports, beam adjustment settings or diagnostic interfaces on it. Actually, it looked _mechanical_ in nature. "I don't see any standard gas cartridge adapters or power ports on the weapon. How do you charge it?"

"You don't, McCloud." Ivan reached into the case and brought out a curved plastic part. "This is a chemical projectile weapon, called a firearm in the old days. It utilizes a separate cartridge to fire a metallic projectile at high speeds and great accuracy." The canine stripped a round out of the plastic container and passed it to the confused vulpine. It was quite small yet fairly dense; a heavy metal projectile was embedded in the top of a carbon composite casing. "The standard projectile is 5.45mm in diameter and 3.2 grams in mass. This is fired at a velocity of over 900 meters per second. In this weapon accurate fire can be attained up to 500 meters. The PR-74 rifle has major benefits over existing blaster carbines despite only delivering a fraction of the impact energy to its target. As Wester said, a demonstration is in order. If you please, Yuri?"

The older-looking canine took the weapon from his compatriot's hands, snapping the plastic container into the bottom of the weapon with military precision. He operated a handle on the side of the weapon, the rifle responding with a metallic clatter. The scientist snapped the rifle into his shoulder with the speed and ease of an expert and took aim on the sheet of armor which had withstood a blaster bolt with no visible ill effects.

In the enclosed space the PR-74's report was extremely loud when compared to a blaster. The flash from the weapon's muzzle was a blink of orange; there was no telltale streak of energy to tell where the weapon was firing from. The screen twitched as the projectile hit it; beyond that there was a loud spatter from behind the armor. From the sound and the ray of light shining through a solitary hole in the screen, Fox could tell it had penetrated without a fuss.

Without any prompting the vulpine stood up and examined the screen. A small hole had been cleanly punched through the layered material mere centimeters from the spot where the LC87's bolt had impacted. Beyond the screen was an equally surprising discovery; the only damage to the viewport behind the target were a few shallow pockmarks.

Wester's voice piped in from behind him. "That's standard starship-grade material, as well. I'm not about to shoot up my station beyond what we already have, but another advantage the PR-74 has is its lower tendency to ricochet or penetrate critical structures within a starship or space station. The bullet simply fragments when hitting a hard surface; a frangible design as the designers call it."

"But why call me out here for a demonstration?" Fox inquired, his focus switching to the assembly lines for the new rifles. "I'm a mercenary, that much is true, but as I'm sure you're aware I do most of my fighting in an Arwing. Why not call the Strikers, or possibly the Rangers?" He turned around, a slight skepticism showing in his actions and his voice. "If you're looking for someone to field-test your new weapons there's easier, less-expensive ways to do it."

Pepper spoke up, standing up as he did so. "Because you're the only one we can trust with this situation, Fox. Yes, the PR-74 will be undergoing a field test but by Ivan and Yuri. You will be acting as support."

"Support for what, General?" Fox blinked, reluctantly returning to his seat as Pepper motioned him over. Everyone else followed suit, Yuri unloading the prototype rifle. Fox noticed a fluidity in his motion; an utter familiarity with the weapon which seemed strange for one so recently developed. Something didn't quite sit right with him, but they desperately needed a job. That thought kept his mouth shut while Pepper fiddled with his datapad.

A moment later the table's holoprojector sprang to life, an image of a planet appearing upon it. It didn't look much different than Corneria, except for the larger amount of landmass spanning three continents versus the Lylatian motherworld's five. The almost lifelike level of detail made it obvious that the image came from a well-equipped survey craft; the sweeping forests and cerulean oceans would have just about made it a resort planet if he had any idea what or where it was.

"Most of you are unfamiliar with this place. This planet was called Cerinia, in the neighboring Merdan Cluster. From here it's a distance of sixty-seven light years, or about two months in Slipspace to reach." Pepper pointed to the hologram, using it as a backdrop to his narration.

"Approximately fifty years ago the Traders' Guild discovered Cerinia during a survey for mineral mining locations in other star clusters. However, as Cerinia was inhabited and of insufficient technological progress to make contact with them it was illegal to set foot on their planet. We just received this information from the Traders' Guild itself, which has been conducting illegal trade with Cerinia since its discovery.

"This information would have been enough to bring serious charges against pretty much all of the Guild's leadership for Section G violations, but we've had to put it aside. Two days ago several ships docked at Markatt Station in Aquas, with nearly eighty Cerinian refugees. By their accounts their world was attacked and completely destroyed by Venom Remnant forces."

"Wait." Fox spoke up. "Why would the Remnant completely destroy a habitable planet, especially one like that? I can see them invading and using it as a base of operations, but why would they lay it to waste?"

Yuri joined the conversation before Pepper could answer. "I was part of the Traders' Guild and was on several vessels doing the Cerinian run. The inhabitants are not what you could call normal, Mr. McCloud. While they are not as technologically advanced as compared to Lylatian standards, they more than make up for it in abilities which could be deemed supernatural.

"Many Cerinians, especially those in higher stations of their society, possess telepathic, telekinetic, and other abilities not seen outside of Lylatian fiction. Scientific analysis of their talents wasn't completed, but what little the Guild did suggested genetic mutations allowing Cerinians to manipulate electromagnetic fields in various ways. This may be why Venomian forces attacked and destroyed Cerinia; they wanted these secrets for themselves."

"This seems to be the case." Pepper retorted. "Either way, we need to find out exactly what happened on Cerinia and track down the Remnant forces there. Since Yuri and Ivan spent time there and have developed this new weapon technology, we want them to go with you in order to investigate. If they're willing to lay waste to a planet over this it's something we should be worried about; as it is we're stretched thin trying to control our borders."

"But how do we get there and back relatively quickly?" Fox asked, absentmindedly scratching the side of his muzzle. "We're talking at least four months from the distances you're describing, and frankly I'm not sure the _Great Fox_ will hold up to a Slipspace trip for that amount of time."

"I think we have a solution for that." Gareth's voice carried into the room for the first time since Fox laid eyes on him. "I don't know the specifics, but I'm assuming your friend Slippy knows the workings of the Beltino Warp Gate system?" Not allowing for a rebuttal, the assistant pointed at the viewport. "If he can help set it up we have a shot of opening a one-way Gate to Cerinia; we know its coordinates. I'm pretty sure I saw two Gate assemblies in the station inventory, right?"

Wester nodded. "We were going to use them for a private Gate path between this facility and our main distribution point for the completed PR-74's, an expensive yet surefire way to reduce the risks of a pirate attack. I don't think the Board will be happy with this, but we don't have much choice."

He crossed over to Fox, his expression turning stony. "In addition to Pepper's standard fee, I'm willing to tack on six million credits for the protection of my employees and the equipment which they bring. I'll also include one PR-74 rifle for each member of your crew as well as prototype sidearms we didn't demonstrate here. You're known as one of the best mercs in the business, McCloud. Do we have a deal?" Wester extended a hand to the vulpine, awaiting his decision.

"We'll take the job." Fox replied, grasping Wester's hand and giving it a firm shake.


	16. Chapter 14: We Can Mistake It for You

**Notes: I wanted to extend a major thanks to Chaos Leader, JyrFalcon345, and Quiksilver for their help on this chapter in particular and this story in general. As always, take a look at what they have to offer, read, and review. I'm sure they'll appreciate it! Apologies to Philip K. Dick for the chapter title.**

Chapter 14: We Can Mistake It for You Wholesale

The scent of coffee wafted through the air, assailing Brian's nose with the intimately familiar 'best part of waking up', if you believed all the marketing hype directed towards putting their particular brand of coffee into the machine inside your kitchen. The bed was soft, an inviting alternative to the lumpy Army cots, sleeping bags on hard ground, and cheap motel beds he had slept on over the past several months. The one thought he had other than the coffee was the fact that he hadn't had a better night's sleep in ages.

He was in his bedroom, the master suite in the townhouse they had been renting out in Billings. The sun did its best to penetrate the thin layer of burgundy curtains hanging over the window, bathing the room in a diffuse glow despite its own efforts to keep the morning light out. Had everything just been a dream? Was he at home, safe in bed rather than fighting in Iraq? Had the struggle to survive on an alien planet just been some sort of nightmare fueled by everything he had witnessed? He didn't have an answer to that. There was only the simple joy of being back home, in his bed. Added to that was the relief that for the moment there were no more wars to fight. Until his leave was over he could get back to a generally normal life.

He reached out towards the nearby window, pushing the curtain out of the way enough to get a peek at a scene he had been greeted by for years: portions of his front yard, the driveway with his uncle's old car perched upon the concrete, and the landscape blotted out by a large dusting of snow the night before. The implications of that were clear. He was on Christmas leave, and everything was right with the world. Perhaps after his contract was over he wouldn't re-up. Dreams had a way of putting everything into perspective. He had served his country and maybe it was time to move on and let someone else take the torch.

He was so relaxed he hadn't startled when the door opened, revealing his wife standing there with a steaming mug in her hands. Another typical lazy morning routine, which meant she had time off from work. The thin tank top and sweatpants didn't do all that much to hide her lithe frame, hard-earned from the time she was a cheerleader at their old high school. The passage of six years hadn't done too much damage to either of them, and the few years of being in the Marines had put Brian into the best shape of his life.

"I'd figured you'd still be passed out." Erica's voice carried softly yet clearly through the atmosphere. She sauntered over to the bed, setting the mug on the oak nightstand next to him. "It's, what, an eighteen hour drive from San Diego?" Her copper hair hung in his line of sight as she bent down and gave him a quizzical glance.

"Twenty-one." He responded, his voice giving out the fuzzy quality of recently waking up. "Spent the night near Salt Lake before making the second leg." In response to that Erica sat down on the bed, the small of her back pressed up against his stomach. "How's school been working out?"

"Oh, you know. Rehashing stuff I already know, glossing over the stuff I don't. I have no idea how you did so well in Hartmann's class. Either that or you got by unscathed so he wants to give your wife a doubly hard time." Erica giggled; a light, airy sound. It was that sense of humor that attracted him to her in the first place. They had their moments, but she could talk him through of some of the worst things he had experienced. That was her strength. Missing her was probably the reason why he had dreamed up that blue fox-girl, though her therapy-fu wasn't as strong as his wife's. Not by a long shot.

"You do realize I still have my notes and finished assignments in the filing cabinet next to the computer, right?" He cast a lazy finger toward the desk in the corner of the room. Unlike the relatively new oak furnishings that comprised most of the house that particular piece was an antique, dating to around the 1930s. The story went that his grandfather had purchased it for his grandmother, and it had been passed down ever since. The desk was one of only two things he had from his grandfather, the other being the old Colt .45 he carried as a sidearm.

"So, you want me to plagiarize your work from his class three years ago so I don't have to worry about bombing. How sweet." Erica's smile turned a sarcastic remark into a humorous one as she tucked in next to him. The sensation of arms wrapping around his back felt a little strange, as if nothing else but that was actually real. Her whisper carried to his ear as she nuzzled against his neck, the soft scent of cinnamon carried through the air. It was somewhat different from Erica's normal Victoria's Secret perfume, but he was too glad to really care about minor details.

"Hey, you deserve to have a leg up. Get your degree, and once I get out of the service we can go wherever the wind takes us. Florida, maybe?" Brian grinned at her as he ran a hand through her hair. Strange. It was softer and significantly thicker than he had remembered it. Either way, he wasn't going to complain. Not after a combat tour and some seriously messed up lucid dreams. The thought of going to their corpsman once he got back came to mind, but he really didn't want to be drummed out on a Section 8.

"I think I'd get tired of the beaches and party life pretty quickly." His wife gave him a kiss along the nape of his neck, a strangely funny tickling sensation accompanying it. "How about Maine? Find a hospital in one of those small towns; get a small repair business going on your end, a nice little house with some land. Peace and quiet without the picket fences. A couple of dogs and a few cats and let's call it good."

With the combat hazard pay he had accumulated over the years instead of blowing it like most of his comrades, it was doable. That was in all honesty why Erica stayed behind in Billings instead of moving with him to San Diego. Her parents owned several townhomes and the rent was pretty cheap. The part-time job at the local doctor's office as a receptionist kept them running well in the black. His combat pay and never spending frivolously added to their savings. Frankly, after his contract was up they would have enough money to start fresh and begin a new life. It was what he promised to her.

"I think we can do that." In response he lifted his head just a little bit, tilting it to the side just enough to allow his lips to land on hers. After several months of being away they both needed some time to be together. Away from the stress and the fighting, a respite from the loneliness and heartache. The strange tickling sensation continued and Erica's hesitant response gave the slightest of hints something was wrong. Brian ignored it anyway, diving into the kiss with fervor.

Erica responded with a soft moan, her hesitation disappearing after a moment. Their arms wound around each other, their surroundings fading away into a soft blur. Their lips parted against each other, tongues hesitantly exploring one another as if it was their first kiss; one shared in the halls of their high school so long ago. Her hands stroked at his sides, unwilling to go any further than the waistband of his boxers. That was another oddity, after several months she was the one who jumped his bones at the first available opportunity. The little things would be subsequently ignored as he decided to take the initiative.

His hand slid down the small of her back, causing her to arch into him as their kiss intensified. It was the perfect moment to wrap his leg around hers, his hand reaching its resting place atop her bottom. That caused her to pause a moment, her actions seeming surprised at something he had always done to her. He gave an experimental squeeze as he felt around. Was that her tailbone? It felt much larger than he remembered.

Another moan came to his ears as her lips pulled away from his, her arms almost crushing him against her body. His brain started to reboot through it all, a few neurons started firing and conscious thoughts started filtering into his mind through the fog. The painfully obvious facts started to become clear. That wasn't Erica's voice. That wasn't Erica's body. That wasn't Erica's tail… oh, _shit._

His eyes snapped open, revealing the sight of Krystal's emerald eyes mere centimeters from his own. Their lips were almost brushing together, and it was quite obvious her arms were wrapped around him and his hands were in places they _really_ shouldn't be. He had been making out with her, something he had said not ten hours ago wouldn't be happening. Not only was it happening, they had come into very dangerous territory if they didn't back out right there and then.

Krystal realized what was going on as well at the last possible moment. She gave a sharp gasp of surprise, looking at her human friend with a mixture of surprise and embarrassment. The vixen was quite speechless. What had started with her coming into his room after a nightmare and seeking some company had turned into this. Part of her mind told her to let go and relish it, to take advantage of the only island of comfort and security she felt she had. Another part admonished her actions. This was no way for a prospective Council member to be acting. Even thinking about an outsider in this way ran anathema to everything she had been taught. The only thing her confused mind had decided on was that they both needed space while they both figured this out.

The unlikely couple pulled apart, the intense memories of their encounter very fresh on their minds. For Brian, the residual excitement and passion his dream had built up to was shattered. What felt like a very real reunion with his ex-wife was simply a dream nearly made reality, only to be shattered upon the cold, uncaring face of reality. What followed was a very difficult predicament. How else could he explain why he was locking lips with her, rather enthusiastically at that? He had even groped her. She wasn't even _human_, for Christ's sake. There had to be some other way to explain this other than _'I was dreaming and it felt so real, sorry about the having my way with you bit'_.

Once there was a comfortable distance between them, their eyes resumed contact. They were both afraid to speak and a couple of uncomfortable minutes passed in silence. Brian fought the urge to grab her hand and hold onto the moment. He wasn't even sure where the hell that thought came from. In his mind it was his fault and he should be the one to break the awkward silence.

"I don't know how to explain myself, but I'm sorry. This wasn't supposed to happen." That sounded like a good middle road. Asking her what she was doing in his room would border on the accusatory, and he didn't want to risk alienating her again. He also used this time to calm down; it was hard to think with his thoughts centered on taking Erica to bed.

"I… I think this is my mistake too." Krystal stammered, trying to calm her own thoughts as well. The insides of her ears were flaring up in a blush bright enough to melt lead and the tip of her tail was twitching erratically. This was a fight-or-flight response pretty much any Cerinian or Lylatian could have seen a kilometer away. "This looks pretty bad, doesn't it?"

Brian, however, was pretty much clueless as to what she was feeling. He was human, not Lylatian. Subtle movements of her ears and tail which otherwise would be telegraphing her embarrassment and hesitant interest were lost on him. The scent cues most other canids, vulpines, and felids would be noticing were also lost on him. From his standpoint all he had was intuition and a general idea that both of them were rushing right along into unfamiliar territory. Ignoring her question, he took a deep breath and gave as calm an explanation as he could. "Alright. What happened here was the fact I was having a dream about my ex-wife. I guess you snuck into my bed for some reason, and things progressed from there. I was very much hoping to put this conversation off for a little while, but I guess that particular plan is FUBAR."

Krystal allowed herself to nod, noting a change in his scent as well as the raw, unabashed honesty emanating from his heart. The confusion about what had gone on between them was the cornerstone of the conflicting emotions both of them were experiencing. She wouldn't delve any farther than his surface thoughts, yet despite what he had told her before his mind was fighting the same battle which was raging inside hers.

"The bad part is that we don't have much time to hash this out. It's obvious you feel something for me, but I don't see how something like this could work out." Brian suppressed a sigh as he glanced toward the vixen's slightly crestfallen expression, trying his best to use the diplomatic tone he generally reserved for resolving disputes within his squad. "There are simply too many differences between you and I. We're from different worlds, different cultures, and while we have to rely on each other to survive that doesn't mean I'm somehow the guy that you're meant to be with."

Krystal gave him a nod, a strange sinking feeling growing in the pit of her stomach. There was some truth in his words, granted. However, they were also two lost souls who had lost everyone and everything that mattered to them. Regardless if it was her homeworld's destruction or some experimental device that sent him here, there was no use denying a deep bond because of what they had been through. She did her best to run through a calming technique before responding, but her voice was still cracking and almost hesitant as she spoke. "You might be right about my feelings, and they're causing me confusion. But please, see both sides of the picture before we stop talking. We both have lost everything. Just like you don't know if you can go home again, I don't know if any of my people are still alive. I…" She hitched for a moment as the realization set in. Her entire family. Her friends. Everyone she had talked to, even in passing. They were likely all dead. Even if they managed to save Sauria, what would happen afterwards? There was no home to return to. Not for her.

She remained silent for a few moments as tears flowed down her cheeks. Brian was familiar with grief, walking hand in hand with danger and death every day. How many memorial services had he been through? How many letters had he sent to the families of friends he lost while he was in combat? Telling someone's wife or mother about being there when their loved one took a bullet or was blown apart by an IED was among the hardest, most draining tasks he had ever done. It didn't take a psychologist to tell him that her emotional state was more fragile than she let on. In a way, they were alike in that regard. You either let a tragedy break you or you let it harden you. Perhaps the chief difference was the fact he had been through much more of it.

He wasn't sure why he did it, but he leaned over and wrapped his arms around her, drawing her into a hug. There wasn't much resistance as she buried her muzzle into the collar of his shirt, the olive drab fabric greedily soaking up the tears that freely flowed down her cerulean features.

All he could think about was home. Earth. Home of the United States, baseball, fast cars, big guns, and good times. The entire human race. He was the only person who had firsthand, irrefutable evidence of intelligent life out there, for all the good it would do him. The only consolation was that he knew that all his loved ones were alive. To them, he was the only one who was dead. His heart sank when the thought of his parents planning his memorial service came to mind. The money didn't matter anymore, not an impossible distance from home. Erica could have all of it, for all he cared. It didn't stop him from wishing he was back home. Even if he was penniless and had to assume some crazy identity living as a bum in Miami or somewhere, it would at least be home.

Neither of them knew how much time had passed with them curled up in his borrowed bed, Krystal's tears slowly subsiding as all the thoughts of Cerinia swam through her mind. All of it was most likely gone. Everyone she knew or even talked to was most likely a victim of Venomian aggression. And there was nothing she could have done about it. She barely survived her escape. All for what? Some minor, rare ability she had that they somehow needed? She was in grave danger. That much was completely obvious. Yet, for the moment she felt safe. The steady rhythm of Brian's heartbeat was somehow soothing, and she found herself unwilling to let go. What was his role in her life? Friend? Comrade? Something deeper? What she was doing broke several moral codes in her society, the least of which was someone of her station cavorting with an outsider. Her emotions fought with her upbringing, the iron will of what she was brought up to be starting to crumble against one simple overwhelming truth: _Everything is gone. I am the only one left._ A lifetime of living to serve others at the cost of sacrificing everything she wanted to be was over, for better or for worse.

With a deep breath she pulled away from him, giving a shake of her head as she did so. There was no forcing him to like her, but there was no denying the conflicting feelings boiling in her heart either. The thought that consumed her mind was that she needed time. Time to think. Without a word she slid off the bed, her expression betraying the mix of confusion, hurt, and frustration at the situation they had gotten themselves in. Without even offering an explanation she stepped out of the bedroom, not even a thought given that she was only wearing the Cerinian equivalent of a nightgown.

Once again left alone in the room, Brian's jaw gaped open a little bit. Whatever he just did probably hadn't been the right course of action. Hell, it was like first dating Erica all over again. That uncertain first few months where she was simply a friend of a friend he had spent more and more time around, skirting around the real issue of feelings and feeling like a complete idiot whenever he made a mistake and drew her ire.

Either way he couldn't dwell on it too much. That was Marine practicality setting in. They had a mission. Regardless of her confused feelings or even his own, they had to complete it. He hoped to God that all of this wouldn't distract them at a critical moment, but now it was time to force all of it from his mind.

He slid out of the bed as Krystal did, without a single word uttered to the silent surroundings. Hastily donning his fatigues, he strode out the door with the sole point of distracting himself from all the white noise going on in his head. Cleaning guns, doing a mechanical check on the Humvee and selecting a proper loadout would drown out all the thoughts of home. Of Erica. Of Krystal.

They had a planet to save. The rest would sort itself out later.


	17. Chapter 15: Through a Glass, Darkly

**Notes: I wanted to say thanks for the reviews, watches, and favorites. While I'm not usually able to make one on one replies to everyone that sends one in, I wanted to assure everybody that I do read each one and they do make an impact on the story. As before, suggestions, speculation, and questions are welcomed; I'll do my absolute best to answer any questions unless they will contain spoilers to events I've yet to write. This next chapter is going to be a long one, and there's some heavy material to get through during the next couple of chapters. I also forgot to upload some corrections to the first Second Arc chapter, with some technical suggestions mentioned by Chaos Leader. I had done the revision a while ago and I thought I had updated it, but apparently I hadn't. Whoops!**

**Also, those very familiar with **_**Adventures**_** will see that I'm taking a few creative liberties with the game world. Experiences with my other story, **_**Man vs. Planet, **_**have caused me to take a more realistic approach to the environmental dangers faced in the game. As such, several areas that were relatively easy to pass through in the game would be extremely dangerous(if not outright lethal) in reality; I'm playing through the game again as I'm writing through; this will make for better accuracy as it pertains to events from the game.**

**Thanks for reading and sticking with this so far.**

Chapter 15: Through a Glass, Darkly.

The bluesy twang of guitars blasted throughout the shuttle's garage area as John Fogerty's voice growled out the lyrics of CCR's _Run Through the Jungle_, courtesy of the stereo system inside the armored Humvee sitting inside of it. The armored combat vehicle took up about eighty percent of the available space, leaving Brian Lancing with a small stool and workbench on which to conduct the tasks he had been giving himself. Both his M16 and M14 rifles were taken apart and scattered all across his workspace, and the Marine had taken to using an old toothbrush and standard cleaning kit to ensure the weapons were taken care of before an almost certain extended period of combat.

One hidden danger of using firearms in a cold climate is lubrication. Use too little and there will be problems once the weapon heats up. The components of the bolt will tend to stick together instead of slide freely, increasing the likelihood of a failure to extract or, worse, a double-feed. Conversely, using too much lubricating oil when it is cold out will simply start to gum the entire weapon up, attracting dirt and grit to the point where the action will freeze up entirely.

That was one of a myriad of reasons why Brian was going about maintaining every weapon meticulously. While military-issued weapons were tested to high standards of precision and durability, they could and would fail. There weren't any spare parts laying around for anything they had, and if something broke it was gone for good. While his combat experience and training gave him a decent skillset in hand-to-hand combat, he had no illusions that the lizards' advantage of numbers and raw strength nearly negated those skills. He was only a threat to them with a gun in his hands.

The routine was good for him. It focused his mind on the matters at hand. The preparation for battle was a ritual he followed more times than he could count back home. He may have been fighting brutish lizardmen rather than Taliban fighters or Iraqi insurgent groups, but the preparation was the same. His hands slammed the M14's bolt home after ensuring it had a light coat of oil, before setting the weapon aside to work on the M16.

After the weapons were taken care of he turned his attention to the Humvee. Like the firearms the vehicle would require quite a bit of attention. It was only going to be useful as long as there was fuel in that 'farmer-rigged' drum bolted inside the bed, and even beyond that there were issues. He sincerely doubted he could be able to find motor oil or coolant just in case something happened and the Humvee spung a leak. The vehicle itself was optimized for the harsh deserts of Iraq, which meant that it would likely run like crap when subjected to the conditions they were about to endure. Also, diesel fuel would start to gel up if not treated for winter conditions which meant more problems down the line. While he would miss the warmth and firepower, it would be staying in the shuttle when they touched down.

All there was to do was to wait and prepare further until Krystal got ready to fly the ship, if she wasn't doing so already. He hadn't even seen her since she left his room, which wasn't enough to give him cause for alarm. By his own track record he was pretty much certain he pissed her off. Next time, he would figure out how to lock the damn door before going to bed.

The next hour was spent removing all of the nonessential fittings from the Humvee and placing them inside the shuttle. Ammunition, MREs, water, and the completely essential case of beer were carted into the living area. There was even a fridge for the beer, which he would be thoroughly enjoying after their current mission. He figured he deserved a break. The food was packed away into the kitchen's cupboards and the ammunition was neatly stocked on the living room's floor. He needed to reload some magazines anyway.

The only rounds he needed to watch were those for the pistols. He didn't have too much left in stock for his .45, but there was still plenty of 9x19mm left for the M9. He decided to give that to Krystal whenever she decided to grace him with her presence once again. He also put the thought of giving her the remaining M4 to internal debate, although that hinged upon whether she would actually accept the longarm. Either way he would stick to the M14 and M16 for their particular donnybrook.

His train of thought was interrupted as he felt the shuttle jolt underneath his feet. Not gently, either. He had felt a few earthquakes when on post in San Diego, and it felt like a moderate aftershock. Something wasn't right. After shoving his M1911 inside his waistband he made a mad dash for the staircase which led to the shuttle's cockpit, although a couple of other shocks almost caused him to faceplant into the thick, royal blue carpet.

The Marine bolted into the cockpit, which was large enough for a couple of folks to lounge back and fly in decent comfort. His vision focused on Krystal, who was gripping the yoke tight enough to give the impression she was about to break it. Her features were a mask of concentration; the nightgown she had been wearing earlier discarded in favor of the form-fitting suit she had found yesterday. As his situational awareness improved his jaw became unhinged at the sight unfolding before him.

Never in his life had he even entertained the idea of seeing what his eyes were showing him in person. The obsidian abyss of outer space greeted his gaze, complete with the distant pinpoints of stars. The foreboding beauty of the scene transfixed him for a moment, causing his brain to momentarily forget exactly what had happened preceding that particular event.

At least until he realized they were already in real danger. The cause of the jolts he felt earlier became clearly apparent as chunks of rock sized between that of a small car to a large office building cascaded past the viewport. "Sweet Jesus…" he managed to rasp as he slid into the seat next to the grim-faced vixen.

Krystal offered no greeting, but considering the circumstances it was pretty hard to be offended by that. Her reflexes were almost supernatural, jinking the craft left and right to avoid the deadly obstacles in their path. The shuttle only jolted when one of the smaller rocks bounced off the shields, which made him wonder exactly what kind of technology this ship held. He didn't even feel the ship start up, let alone take off into space. He wasn't about to ask her how she had managed that. He didn't even know she could fly the damned thing.

The next few minutes were spent in a tense silence, Krystal's hands deftly maneuvering the controls in time to the dangerous ballet going on outside the viewport. Brian's eyes kept on shooting to the control readouts, which he gained a cursory knowledge of during his time reading the ship's technical manuals.

The shuttle they were in, frankly, had the snot beaten out of it during its landing. It was barely spaceworthy, and the hull integrity indicators were mostly flashing in the yellow and orange areas. It was like taking a leaky yacht out to cross the Atlantic. Their only saving grace were that the shields were operational. His time going over the technical manuals the ship came with also informed him that they were armed. It was likely some underpowered civilian-grade laser cannon, but at least they had something more potent to throw at an enemy than foul language.

What surprised him most was the complete ease with which she piloted the craft. She never said anything about being able to fly, but if she was put into an F15 and told to hang with Top Gun instructors, she could likely do it. Even with their incredibly awkward start to the day he couldn't help but look at her with a sense of renewed awe. A switch had been flipped and she was all business.

Once the asteroid content had died down somewhat, Brian thought it was safe enough to talk. "How far out are we?" He was hoping that they were at least relatively close to their objective.

Krystal's voice was, surprisingly, devoid of the confusion, anger, and pain she had experienced a couple of hours before. There wasn't much room in her mind to delve into what had happened, even though it was lurking all around. His 'elephant in the room,' metaphorically. If she lost her concentration and let her emotions take over, they were dead. "About three thousand kilometers. We're past the worst of the debris field, so it should take us about fifteen minutes."

"Sounds like I should make a last minute check and get our loadouts ready." Brian started to stand, only to be thwarted by Krystal reaching over and grasping his shoulder. Something about the way she looked at him, that professional determination flashing behind those emerald eyes of hers, caused him to sit back down without struggling.

"Stay. We have some time." Her tone was insistent as she returned to piloting the shuttle. "We can't go into battle like this. We both know that. I apologize for my previous behavior, but we need to get this taken care of." She was tense, thankful that her tail's erratic twitching was hidden by the standard channel built into the seat. Being a telepath and an empath meant controlling her surface emotions; even though her outward appearance was calm her inner thoughts were in complete turmoil.

This was something he dreaded, but guessed the least painful way to do things was to just get it over with. She did apologize, although this mess still felt like it was _his_ fault. "I'll just say my piece." Taking a deep breath he prepared for a pretty stout backlash after he had said this, but this was on his mind and she didn't deserve anything less than complete honesty. "Your actions aren't to blame in any of this. You're not experienced with any of this, and these sorts of circumstances either draw people together or tear them apart. I'm no shrink, but you're dealing with some very heavy shit right now. Frankly, you're not ready for combat."

As she glanced back over to him to deliver a retort, he continued. "However, we're alone in all of this. No support, no logistics, nobody to bail us out of a tight spot. I know you say I've saved your life like you owe me some unpayable debt, but in war, that's _what you do._ It's not about going out there and killing the enemy. Only the psychos think that. It's about watching your friends' backs, and it's about them watching yours. We're in this together. I might be rejecting your advances, but that doesn't mean I'm not your friend. I've got your back."

Krystal sat there for a moment, thankful for the reprieve the 'clear spot' in the debris field that surrounded the planet had bought her. Safely piloting the ship through that was a task that demanded every last bit of concentration she could muster. Brian was right, at least partially. Even the bit about not being ready for combat, painful as that was to admit.

"You've been through a lot. I get that. I don't know if I'm fully able to understand it, but the fact is that as far as we know, we're the only ones out here who know the full score." He leaned back in the seat, noting a blue-white dot out in the vast darkness that seemed to be drawing closer with each passing second. "Those bastards committed genocide against your people. You need to live to get the word out so they can't do it again."

The vixen nodded silently, a quick glance at her instruments revealing nothing but a few errant asteroids en route to the chunk of floating planet which housed the mine complex. She kept trying to bring up positive thoughts, the fact that what had happened didn't irreparably damage their friendship. Yet, who else could she count on, if not Brian? Despite coming from an entirely different culture he had the same character traits that were highly valued in her society. Honor, loyalty, compassion, and duty. What he wouldn't admit was the fact he was going through as taxing a trial as she was. Yet, as they agreed on earlier she would keep her muzzle shut until they were relatively free from danger. That didn't mean, however, she couldn't try a different approach.

"What are you going to do if you get back home?" It was an innocent enough question, albeit one which had been burning on her mind since he expressed that desire. He hadn't talked about what his life was _really_ like on his homeworld. When it came down to the silver hitting the counter, all she knew was the fact he had ended his pairing with his disloyal lifemate and that his 'nation' had what sounded to be an extremely inefficient, strange form of government.

Brian let a sigh into the still, recycled air. "I don't know. There's the fact that back in the US, I'm legally dead. If I can get away with draining my savings account I could get a fake identity and find somewhere to settle down. Perhaps after a few years I can go back and at least let my family know I'm alive, but I may be faced with severing all ties with them for my own safety." He stared ahead at their objective, thoughts swirling through his head. He kept a significant chunk of his combat pay in a savings account Erica couldn't touch; a mutual decision after her sister persuaded her into a pretty substantial loan she never repaid. But, could he even get to that after he was dead? Beyond that, even if he was insane enough to come out with his story, who would believe it? Perhaps a gullible crowd at a UFO convention?

"I really don't know what'll happen to me, but I've got to try. Yeah, this'll be a permanent event for me to deal with, but there's worse things that can happen. I guess until then, we just make sure both of us get out alive." He took a quick glance at their destination, by now visible enough to distinguish the features of mountains and valleys in the planet chunk's surface. Taking a deep breath, he extended his hand to fall on her shoulder. "I've got your back. Let's do this."

The beaten, battered luxury shuttle's thrusters screamed as they slowed the craft down over the desolate landscape. It was hauntingly beautiful; ice-covered mountains sloping down to meet a lake of boiling magma. Unfortunately, the aforementioned lake housed the only stable, safe place to land; the shuttle's sensor suite revealed the more hospitable areas to be crawling with Sharpclaw or situated over iced-over lakes which had absolutely no chance at holding their craft's weight.

To Brian, the pit they descended into bore more than a passing resemblance to Dante's depiction of Hell. Simply add some damned souls and some angry demons to torment them. The outside temperature gauge was reading a very nasty 63 degrees centigrade. If he remembered his math right, that was well over 140F. Even Baghdad didn't get that hot. There was a gentle shudder as the shuttle set down on the rock platform, nearly thirty yards above the surface of the lava.

Krystal was the one who broke the silence. "We have arrived. Now we need to free the captive Snowhorns, fight our way into the mines, and retrieve the Spellstone. This should be easy." The last part was dripping with sarcasm. "How do you believe we should handle this?"

The Marine stood up, taking a glance at the inhospitable landscape beyond. A narrow stone path led from the shuttle's makeshift landing pad to what he assumed was a staging area for the mine complex itself. With all the noise they made coming in, they would be waiting. Tactically speaking they couldn't be in a worse position. Defenders would have a clear line of fire; there was absolutely no cover or concealment to be had when on the stone. The heat would be almost unbearable, and one misstep could send them falling off to their certain death. Frankly, he would have preferred to clear a house armed only with a knife than do this. "We're going to have to move very quickly. They're going to know we're here, and even these Sharpclaw will have enough smarts to set up an ambush as soon as we get on that stone catwalk. My suggestion is to leapfrog it up to the entrance, but that means you're going to need a rifle."

Krystal blinked as he stepped out of the cockpit, motioning for her to follow. As she strode behind him, her reply was laced with curiosity. "Why? My staff's fire blaster should be powerful enough to defeat any Sharpclaw we come across." They wound their way down a set of stairs, entering the garage area which Brian had co-opted. Weapons were strewn across the workbench, loaded and ready for the hard use they were about to receive.

"Your staff runs out of energy pretty quickly." Her friend plucked a weapon identical to the one he had given her before from the bench, presenting it to her as if it were a kit's prized toy. "Leapfrogging is a tactic we use when there's little to no cover and we need to close in on a particular position. I'll be providing covering fire as you move ahead. After a short distance you stop and lay down fire for my advance, so on and so forth. The object is to keep whoever's shooting at us pinned down until we can reach some real cover. Your staff's far too valuable to waste energy suppressing hostiles."

He had a point. While the strange metallic projectiles his weapons fired weren't able to be replenished, they had far more of them than the energy gems which fueled her staff. Brian at least understood the limitations of his weapons and the advantages of hers, which meant he was paying attention. She took the projectile rifle from his waiting grasp, as well as a belt loaded with ammunition magazines and a hand blaster similar to the one he possessed. "You're expecting heavy resistance." It was a statement, not a question. She buckled the belt over her flight suit, adjusting the weight of the various pouches and handgun to find a better center of balance. The additional firepower would be useless if she couldn't effectively fight with her staff.

"If they have any sort of tactical acumen, yes." Brian replied, slipping on his armor and the load bearing vest which he had already equipped with the ammunition and gear he had selected. He placed his pistol back into the holster hanging from it, and buckled down all the gear. Unlike Krystal he tried to fight at a distance; if he could keep the bastards pinned down with well-placed shots they had a much better chance of surviving. "I know our tactics were different. We are trained for months in order to do this with minimal risk, and even then lives are lost. "

He didn't outright say it, but the surface thoughts that flitted across his mind were of the friends who had been killed on the battlefield. She knew he didn't try to hide it. The sadness, the anger, and the grief were muted, hidden behind the veil of stoicism that was the part of his personality he hid everything beneath. She placed her hands on his shoulders, a determined gaze meeting his eyes. "Then trust me. We will get through this. You have a telepath watching your back, right?" She offered a slight smile before pulling away.

"True." He flashed one back for a split moment then picked up his rifles. The M14 was slung over his shoulder while the M16 was attached to his web gear, positioned to where he could have it in a firing position within less than a second. "Let's go. Follow my lead." As he reached the controls for the cargo door, a harsh buzz emitted from its embedded loudspeaker instead of the chime signaling it would open.

The two exchanged puzzled glances for a moment before the ship's automated voice provided an explanation. "_Warning, hazardous external atmosphere detected. All normal exits are sealed. If outside access is desired please use the airlock. The hazardous external elements include sulfur dioxide, hydrogen sulfide, hydrogen chloride, and high levels of carbon dioxide. Recommended protection level: portable oxygen supply._"

"Well, shit." Brian growled, turning away from the controls and making his way to the Humvee. He rummaged through it for a moment, taking a small bag and clipping it to his armor. "Volcanic gasses. Had an elective geology class in college and we went over it for a bit."

"Is it dangerous?" Krystal inquired as they exited the cargo area, making a left towards the airlock. Something felt a little wrong and his agitation was quite noticeable. They would need some sort of protection to survive, that much was obvious from what the ship was telling them.

"In small doses some of that is just irritating. I'm figuring it's a lethal concentration if it's warning us about it." He took a deep breath and let it out, glancing at the storage lockers next to the airlock's exit. They stored what they were looking for. "The problem is that with a high concentration of carbon dioxide we'll suffocate within a few moments. It's probably why they're not down here trying to beat the doors down." With a frown he started searching the storage lockers. Most everything in there were the spacesuits he had seen earlier, but a few devices which looked like oxygen masks lined the walls of one of the units.

He frowned as he pulled them out. They were reminiscent of what a fighter pilot would wear, constructed of thick gray plastic with a head harness to ensure it didn't get knocked out of place. It looked like it was tailor-made to someone of Krystal's species. That meant she would be fine, but the differences between their anatomies were enough that he wouldn't be able to wear one.

He glanced at the instructions on the oxygen bottle the mask was tethered to. It looked to be simple enough; a series of pictograms detailing how to put it on. "Here." He handed it to Krystal, who took it with an uneasy glance. "Looks like that packs three hours' worth of air, so you're covered."

"What about you?" She tried not to show it but her stomach churned, memories of the stasis pod flashing before her eyes like a grotesque movie. After that experience she wasn't looking forward to strapping another Lylatian contraption over her muzzle. While her expression remained stoic the tip of her tail twitched nervously, belying her facade.

He responded by pulling out what he had in the pouch, a scary-looking black faceplate of some sort. It looked like it would fit his features far better than the breathing devices stockpiled in the shuttle; they were designed for her kind, after all. "Going to have to take my chances like this."

"What _is_ that thing?" Her inquiry was uttered as he removed his helmet and slipped the device over his face, tightening a series of straps meant for holding it on. When he was done he was transformed into a creature she could only describe as looking truly alien. The bulging features and large eyepieces disturbed her; the only feature of his she could make out was his familiar steel-gray eyes.

"It's a gas mask." Brian's voice was slightly muffled, yet still intelligible. "It's meant to filter out any poison gasses that we might be attacked with. Great protection during sandstorms, too. Only problem is that this won't be as protective as what you'll be using. We'll need to move quickly, get to higher ground." He motioned to the device in her hands. "You gotta gear up, too."

She braced herself as she slipped the confining amalgamation of rubber and plastic over her muzzle, wrinkling her nose at the strong scent that came from it. Her fingers fumbled with the straps that held it on, but she was rewarded with a breath of flat, recycled air once she was finished. "How's this?" Her voice sounded much more muffled than his; she likely looked as alien to him as he did her.

"Looks like you're good." Brian replied, turning to the airlock controls. "We need to move quickly. Follow my lead." He punched a few controls, a sharp, screeching hiss causing them both to jump. The temperature started to rise, becoming uncomfortably hot within a matter of seconds. A minute later the airlock chimed and the door opened, allowing the two a glimpse into the hellish landscape beyond.

The ship had been perched on a large shelf of volcanic rock, barely ten meters above the surface of a boiling pit of lava. Large columns surrounded the area, each lit by a dimly flickering torch. This was a good thing; if there was enough oxygen here to support fire he wouldn't suffocate immediately. While his mask was good enough to filter out the toxic gasses given off by the lava, the amount of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere was still quite dangerous.

The heat hit them like it was a physical presence. Even though he was already used to the desert climate of Iraq it was quite unbearable. Despite the conditions they still had a mission to accomplish. Training took over as he tucked the M16's stock into his shoulder, scanning the area with a practiced eye. "All clear, move up." The two made their way down the ramp and outside the shuttle, noticing the natural 'ramp' which spiraled up towards the safer areas of the mines.

Krystal was panting, instantly grateful that the air she was breathing was cooler than the inferno they found themselves in. The Guardian frowned, glancing up at the path laid out before them. It was quite narrow; one misstep could easily spell out their death if they weren't careful. She kept a few meters behind them as they wound up the ramp, her hands wrapped around the firing grip and foreguard of the rifle he had given her.

They were attacked almost immediately, Krystal catching a burst of angry, primitive thought patterns a split second before seeing it. "Look out!" she cried, trying to sight in on the winged beast that swooped down on Brian. He hit the ground, barely missing a set of razor-sharp talons aimed for the back of his neck.

Krystal fired, the M4's report not as loud as it had been compared to her previous experience in the Krazoa Palace. The added bulk of the mask made it difficult for her to correctly target, but her abilities were able to pinpoint the beast's movement. It was a clean hit, their attacker knocked out of the sky and into the unforgiving magma below.

She lowered her weapon, extending a hand to Brian to help him up. Shaking, he stumbled into her as he reached his feet. "Thanks. You saved my ass right then. Good looking out." She gave a soft smile, a luxury afforded to her by the mask. Without another word they continued up the ramp, their senses working overtime to detect any more lurking attackers.

Brian's pace increased as he felt a slight headache coming on. That wasn't good. He needed to get to higher ground, quickly. That meant he had to focus more on moving and breathing than he did on watching his surroundings. Even though part of his mind really didn't like it, he had to trust in Krystal's abilities.

They saved him less than a minute later. Her arm shot out, fingers grasping the collar of his armor and physically yanking him backwards. A second later a glob of white-hot magma sailed just over a foot away, splashing back down in the pit. "Careful, Brian." Her muffled voice was barely audible over the chaos. "Are you okay?"

"Kinda, but I need to get out of here." He took another few deep breaths, his headache growing stronger. "Getting affected by the lack of air." Krystal nodded, keeping a grip on his armor. Her gaze tracked the errant magma balls. Without saying a word she guided him past them, worry for his safety fueling her focus.

The path took a bend to the left, a large portion of the volcanic rock blasted away by one of the magma balls. She frowned at this. "We're going to have to jump for it. Let me lead; I'll be here to grab you if something happens." Brian nodded his assent as she prepared to make a running jump, forcing her fear and her discomfort as far aside as she could.

The fact she was unburdened by a bunch of combat gear made the jump much easier. She cleared the gap without an issue, landing on the other side with the grace of an acrobat. The vixen turned around and motioned to the Marine. "I'm ready!" She had to shout to overcome both the stifling mask and the din of the lava pit.

Brian charged down the path and launched himself over the gap, probably overdoing it. Instead of landing on the path he crashed into Krystal, sending them both the ground in an impact that knocked the wind out of them both. "Shit!" He gasped. "Sorry!"

"It's okay." After a moment she got to her feet, helping him up once more. His slower reaction time and sluggish movements were worrisome, and she made the decision to hold onto him. "We're almost there. Can you make it?"

"Got… to." His response was labored as he glanced around. He could see salvation up ahead; another couple of clear bends and they would be exiting the pit. Part of him was embarrassed for her help, but another, larger part was glad she was around. She could think on her feet and was good in a scrap. His headache and swimming mind made it a little hard to think clearly, but even through all that happened she still gave a shit.

"I've got you." Through sheer determination she supported her friend against her side and carried on, her senses reaching out to make sure there wasn't another ambush waiting for them. To her dismay five Sharpclaw were waiting at the mouth of the pit they were trying to exit. Two of them had crossbows while the rest were carrying the slugthrowers that were similar to the rifle she had access to.

She let go of Brian, who still had enough presence of mind to ready his own weapon. "Get down!" she shouted, dropping to one knee; firing her M4 into the crowd. She wasn't sure if she hit any of them but at least that caused a crossbow bolt to go wide.

The Marine's rifle spoke, the roar of an automatic burst slamming into a couple of their attackers. They crumpled to the ground while the others fired frantically. Krystal had no time to check on her friend; she kept firing single shots into their adversaries. She wasn't as skilled or accurate with it as Brian was, but she managed to drop two of them. The remaining Sharpclaw turned tail and ran much to their relief; they were in a dangerous firing position.

Once again she pulled Brian to his feet, dashing the last few meters to the relative safety of open air. The emergence into the freezing conditions beyond was as much a shock as she had emerging into the boiling pit. Taking advantage of the situation she set him down in the soft snow under their feet and yanked her mask off; the crisp, cold air a reward for enduring the time she spent wearing the infernal device. Stuffing it inside one of the pockets of her flightsuit, she turned to her friend, who was struggling getting his own respirator off.

"Christ, that was intense." he rasped, tucking his gas mask back inside its pouch. "I guess I owe you one." She held out her hand to once again help him up, yet instead of letting go she drew him into a tight embrace. Brian was a little too surprised to say anything, but after a moment she let him go.

"We'll call that even." She smirked, motioning to the rows of huts before them; the buildings definitely defended by Sharpclaw who had learned their lessons about getting into their lines of fire. "We need to free these Snowhorns, so let's get to it."

Taking a step back while catching his breath, he surveyed the area. A gravel path between the three large huts was kept clear of snow. Between them, several of the sapient mammoths were shackled to poles driven into the frozen earth; they looked sturdy enough to hold even their resistance. They would have to be extremely careful not to hit any of them. "They're going to be waiting for us to come running down that central path. We can try flanking them, using those huts as cover as long as there's nobody in them."

She nodded at him, reaching out with her mind to determine where everyone was at. Their thought patterns were easy to track, between the anxious, angry Sharpclaw and the nervous, frightened Snowhorn she managed to find the areas they weren't paying attention to. "I count six more Sharpclaw but only two of them are on the left side of that path. We could try to sneak up behind them."

"Solid plan." He flashed a smile which she warmly returned. "Just be very careful with your fire. We can do this. Follow my lead, and I promise not to screw this one up." With a chuckle he hefted his M16, keeping it at the ready while they skirted through a small copse of dead, leafless trees. The sound of boots crunching the snow was a telltale sign Krystal was right behind him.

The huts were quite large and to Brian's mind were evocative of old Viking longhouses. To Krystal, they were similar to the shelters used by rural Cerinian herdsmen who took care of the large gulmar herds throughout the cold winter months. Either way their bulk hid them from the Sharpclaw, who were about to be taught a harsh lesson in flanking tactics.

Brian's headache and mental sluggishness were fading now that he was out of the lava pit's dangerous atmosphere. The chill would be their next major environmental challenge, but in comparison to the boiling temperatures they had just emerged from it was invigorating. With speed and precision borne of months of training and years of battle experience, the Marine emerged around the back wall of the hut, his rifle already tracking the two Sharpclaw who had just turned around at the sound of their footsteps. They had already lost.

The M16 cracked twice in the freezing air, sending twin 62-grain 5.56mm rounds at the leftmost Sharpclaw at just over 3,000 feet per second. The twin rounds punched into its target, sending the reptile antagonist to the snowy ground in a flurry of spiraling limbs. A loud hiss and a flash at Brian's peripheral vision heralded a bolt of flame spitting towards the second Sharpclaw. It joined its friend, the flaming mass having scorched through most of its body.

The other Sharpclaw who were lying in wait for them were finding themselves victims of the ambush they tried to perpetrate. Brian's M16 competed with Krystal's staff, each delivering pinpoint accuracy compared to the Sharpclaw's slow, cumbersome single-shot rifles and crossbows. A few shots and staff blasts later found the Marine and Guardian victorious. Yet, it was only a minor one in a battle that was just beginning.

"Good support work." He glanced to her as she was tucking her staff back in its makeshift carrier on her borrowed utility belt. "As long as we can stick together we've got this. Do you think you can get those cuffs off those Snowhorn?"

Krystal nodded, grinning at his compliment. "I should be able to. I can use my staff's energy fields to cut through their chains. I'm… I'm just glad you're safe." Cooler emotions prevailed, but the urge to sweep him up into another embrace was more than present. The events that happened in the lava pit worried her; was death that close at hand? At that moment she made a solemn vow to herself; she wouldn't let any harm come to him or any innocent Saurians as long as she lived.

"I appreciate that. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you." Brian reached over and placed a hand on her shoulder, meeting her gaze. They held it for a moment, her heart jumping in her chest. What did all this mean? "You're doing great. I'm going to keep an eye out down the road for more Sharpclaw. Just get the Snowhorn to safety and we'll carry on."

As he turned away Krystal tried to calm her feelings down through sheer willpower. While she made her way to the nearest Snowhorn the events of the past several hours played through her mind. There had to be a way to make sense of it all, or at least she hoped so.


	18. Chapter 16: Tour of Duty

Chapter 16: Tour of Duty.

Brian's adrenaline rush had slowly run its course, putting the freezing environment into its proper place rather than the invigorating welcome from the lava pit they had climbed out from. As much as his pride hated for him to admit it, without Krystal he would have died down there. She was quite a decent soldier, and her telepathic abilities had saved his life more than once in the past half-hour. He turned away from the stone archway he was guarding to see the captive Snowhorn gathered in a circle about a hundred meters distant, talking animatedly with Krystal. Their deep voices carried far enough for him to hear words here and there, yet the Saurian dialect they were conversing in was all Greek to him.

There wasn't much of a chance of the Sharpclaw mounting another attack on them, however. The archway looked over a deep ravine with some sort of drawbridge across it. The bridge was closed and could only be operated from their side, which was a minor blessing for them. However, military discipline kept him in a state of readiness. They needed to be mindful of their surroundings.

A grunt from behind took his attention away from his area of responsibility. He glanced back to see Krystal struggling with a large backpack, bulging at the seams with something that looked very heavy. She set the container down with a thud, a slight smile upon her vulpine features. "They're grateful for our intervention. I was told to thank you was well. They even gave us a gift for our troubles."

"What's in the pack?" Brian's voice held a tone of incredulity, unsure what to think about receiving some massively heavy object as a gift.

"It's a cog to operate that drawbridge just up ahead. The Sharpclaw guard these to limit the places the Snowhorn can go. Since the air in the lava pit is poisonous and the bridge is blocked off, the only place for them to go is to stay here." The vixen undid the snaps holding her canteen in place, fishing it out and taking a gulp of water. "The path to the mines lies beyond that bridge, but they gave me a very stern warning. Sharpclaw aren't our only worries."

Brian blinked at her. What else could give them more grief than an army of lizardmen? The only thing he could think of was quite bad. "If that weapon teleported a few insurgents here along with me, we've got some major problems. They'll be equally or better armed than us, and many of them have decent training."

"No, they didn't mention others of your kind. They mentioned something called a Galdon. It's some beast that's supposed to be guarding the Spellstone." She put away her canteen and pulled her pack back on, struggling with the effort. "By the grace of Melos, this is heavy. It might be fifty kilos."

"You want me to get it for you?" Brian's voice was laced with concern. Sure, he had armor and a heavier loadout compared to her, but he was also not carrying most of the equipment he normally would. He could probably manage, but a shake of her head quelled any protest.

"No. The bridge is just up ahead." As they moved forward the drawbridge was clearly in view, though its mechanism was nowhere in sight. Krystal paused for a moment. Something had her hackles raised, which meant it was a good time to reach out and see what might be lurking around them.

Brian saw her stiffen, reaching for her first available weapon: the M4. He followed suit, bringing his M16 into a low ready position, scanning the area for any disturbances. "Where's the hostile?"

Her reply was terse and clipped. "In the ravine. It's a colony of creatures; some sort of scavengers. They will attack anything down there." She turned to him. "That's where the bridge mechanism is. Will you protect me from up here?" She tried to hide the spike of fear that shot through her body; this was an unexpected and possibly lethal obstacle so soon after their escape from the lava pit.

"Are you sure you don't want me to do it?" She nodded at him, only relaxing when he placed his hand on her shoulder. "You're going to have to be quick. Move in a straight line and don't deviate. I don't want to accidentally shoot you." With that he took up a firing position on the edge of the ravine, glancing down at the rushing water several meters below. There was a makeshift pier leading to the machinery controlling the bridge; a set of stone gears set into the opposite side of the ravine.

"Thank you." With a deep breath she took a step towards the ladder leading down, her thoughts picking up the hungry excitement from the creatures below. She could pinpoint them now; they were hiding in the crevices in the rock wall across from their position. "They're hiding in the far wall!" Her warning to Brian got his attention, and he could feel the intense focus he put out towards targeting any threat. For some reason it made her feel safer.

She slid down the ladder and hit the surface of the pier with a hollow _clunk_. Almost immediately, she could feel the creatures swarming to their holes, peering out to try attacking their new meal. A wet hiss echoed off the walls and a green blob of slime impacted against the pier only inches from the heels of her boots. At the same time, a series of cracks rang out from Brian's position, followed by a shouted command. "Keep going! I'm keeping their heads down!"

She didn't need any encouragement. Even with her heavy load, she dashed forward, not wanting to find out what the green slime would do to her. The spitting noises were drowned out by gunshots, the Marine's fire directed at any holes where he could find a flash of movement. Within seconds, she had reached the bridge machinery and begun to get to work. The pier's planks bent slightly as she dropped the pack, but Krystal didn't have the time to be concerned. She was too busy pulling the heavy cog out and wrestling it into place.

Brian directed a torrent of fire into any holes he could see, the M16's minimal recoil allowing him the chance for nearly instantaneous followup shots. As she pulled the lever to extend the drawbridge the bolt locked back, empty. The rifle was left to dangle from its sling; it was faster to pull out his pistol than to fumble with a fresh mag. His M1911 was brought up and put into play, its booming report delivering heavy .45 rounds into wherever he thought the creatures were hiding.

As Krystal ran back she raised her own rifle, putting shots into the holes with more effect than Brian had. She knew exactly where the creatures were hiding and which ones were about to spit at her. A few well-aimed shots put a stop to most of their motivation; hopefully they would consider easier prey. The vixen dashed up the ladder, slightly winded yet grateful to be alive and unharmed.

"This is going to be a nightmare." Brian growled, backing away from the ravine while replacing the magazines in both his rifle and pistol. "Inhospitable terrain and dangerous as Hell."

"But we have a job to do, and I can't think of anyone else on this planet that could do it as well as we can." She flashed him a disarming smile. "Besides, we work rather well together. We got the job done and neither of us was harmed."

"That's true." He conceded that point. Keeping their rifles trained on the creatures' holes, they made their way across the bridge. Beyond it was another obstacle; a deep gully with platforms on both sides. A constant low rumble made them aware of the danger, comprised of large boulders rolling down it at regular intervals. As they both stopped the only remark he could think of came to mind. "Please don't tell me we have to go down that."

Krystal opened her mouth to reply, but was stopped by a commotion she caught out of the corner of her eye. After a split instant she regained her voice. "Over there! He needs our help!" The sickening sight of a Snowhorn lying on the frozen ground was bad enough, yet he was being assailed by four Sharpclaw soldiers with clubs. None of them were holding anything back.

The vixen turned to rush in but was stopped by Brian's hand gently wrapping around her arm. "We're sticking together, right? They're too close to the Snowhorn to risk taking a shot, so I guess we need to get in close." Leaving his firearms alone, he slid his knife from its sheath and nodded to her.

"Keep close to me." Krystal urged, sliding her staff out of her belt and extending it. Compared to his knife it had far greater reach and utility. She had better training and more experience in close combat; experience which was needed to pull this off. The two closed in on the oblivious Sharpclaw, who were clearly enjoying exerting their power over a larger yet helpless creature. They were going to put a stop to that.

The Cerinian made the first move, stalking behind the closest Sharpclaw and delivering a vicious swat to the side of its head. The Saurian fell backwards, growling out a warning to its comrades as it clumsily blocked a strike meant for its throat. The others immediately turned their attention from the battered Snowhorn to the pair who attacked them.

Brian charged in from the side, the Marine tossing subtlety to the wind. Dodging a clumsy strike from a mace, he thrust the knife forward, eliciting a shriek of pain from the Sharpclaw he had struck. Now bleeding from a superficial wound in its side it attacked with a mixture of fear and anger, its advance halted by a combat boot slamming into its chest. While it struggled to get up the human went on the offensive, kicking the mace aside before driving the knife into his target's chest.

Krystal's senses caught the panicked emotions from the Sharpclaw right as its thought patterns were severed from the living world. The split second of hesitation caused a nearly fatal mistake on her part as a club caught her in the chest, sending her to the snow-covered ground. Her side flared with pain as two of the Sharpclaw closed in, directing strikes to her head which she barely blocked. As they wound up for a second swing she went on the offensive, driving the end of her staff into one of her attackers' throats. The strike was fatal, the Sharpclaw dropping its club to reach for its crushed larynx. Her staff parried her remaining assailant's attack as she leapt to her feet, sweeping its feet out from under it.

Brian's second Sharpclaw wasn't going to go down easy. It dropped its club at the start of the attack and produced a short sword; be barely dodged a swing which would have nearly cut his leg off. His bloody knife wasn't having much effect; his opponent's weapon had far more reach. He feinted right, tossing the knife into his left hand. The Sharpclaw lunged at him, the blade catching the side of his armor. It made a grating, scraping sound against its ceramic discs, but the attack gave him enough time to get out of the way and make the fight much more unfair. As the Sharpclaw was concentrating on the blade in his left hand, his right went for his .45. The big pistol's report thundered over the sounds of the fight and the lizardman pitched backwards, a neat, round hole punched through its forehead.

He pivoted around, bringing the M1911 into a firing position to catch the sight of Krystal's staff snapping into the last Sharpclaw's temple. The crack of bone signaled the end of the fight as the final belligerent fell. Both of them were winded, though as she made her way towards him he noticed a slight limp. "You okay?" he asked, securing his pistol in its holster.

"I got hit during the fight." She winced at the residual pain, though her padded flightsuit had taken the brunt of the blow. She was very much looking forward to retrieving the Spellstone and taking a well-deserved breather from all the action. The pace had intensified and that meant they would be pushed to the limit. However, the tone of concern in Brian's voice was a relief. They were working together better than she had hoped. "I'll be fine, just a bit sore."

She turned her attention to the Snowhorn, who was struggling to get up. As he struggled to his feet he looked at them, gratitude pouring from his heart. These two strangers had faced four of the most brutal Sharpclaw guards stationed at the mine complex and won, saving his life in the process. "Thank you, strangers. I owe you my life."

As Krystal conversed with the recently rescued mammoth, Brian glanced down at the section of armor that had borne the blunt of the blade. While Dragon Skin was rated to withstand multiple impacts from high-powered rifles it wasn't designed to deal with blades. As a result the fabric outer layer had been sliced through and some of the ceramic discs underneath were cracked. There was a decent chance that a round could penetrate if it hit that exact spot, and that was cause for a little bit of worry.

His thoughts were brought to a halt by the sensation of something curling around his shoulder. Krystal stood there with a concerned expression. "Are you hurt?" Her finger idly traced the broken section of armor, a frown forming upon her muzzle as she did so.

"No. My armor took the impact." He reached down to the area as well, his hand accidentally brushing against hers. The contact caused both of them to stiffen, expecting a reaction from the other. A quick moment passed in silence before he resumed explaining. "Uhm, if a bullet manages to hit this section again it might not be stopped effectively."

"We'll need to be careful, then." She quickly turned her head to hide the slight blush she developed, though she was unsure if he could detect it. "The Snowhorn is pretty scared. He said there's a large wooden door barring the way to the mine entrance, but it was secured. The Sharpclaw were beating him because he refused to break open it for them."

"Brave guy. But, why would they be locked out of their own perimeter? Because we were coming or something?" Something didn't add up. "Did he say what the lay of the land was past that door?"

"It's a big, open area with a large hut in the middle." Krystal closed her eyes, using visual cues from the Snowhorn's surface thoughts to complete the picture. "There are high rock walls on all sides, but there's an area up there where the Sharpclaw can watch over prisoners coming and going from the mines. It should be well defended. Perhaps they know we're coming."

"Ask him if he knows how to get that door open." As a soldier, Brian had learned long ago to trust his instincts. They were tugging at him now, almost screaming that something wasn't right. If they were trying to barricade themselves in a strongpoint in order to hamper their progress, the ones they posted outside wouldn't be trying to bash their way back in. They would have also given them guns instead of melee weapons.

The vixen turned to the mammoth standing there, and after a moment of conversation the big Saurian nodded his head. He was about twice as tall as the Humvee they had left in the shuttle, and likely weighed almost three times as much. Against a barricaded wooden door there wasn't going to be any contest. She turned back to the Marine, flashing a smile. "He will. I just told him to stay back in case any Sharpclaw come pouring out." She did, however, notice her friend's concerned expression. "Is everything okay?"

"Something about this isn't sitting right." Brian shook his head. "Except for that big badass Scales character these guys aren't incredibly sharp on tactics. This kind of a trap isn't beyond them, but they might have something up their sleeve." She gave him a confused glance. "It means they might have an unpleasant surprise in store for us, so be careful."

"How should we do this?" The problem was that she couldn't sense anything from where they were at. The door lay about fifty yards down the path, which consisted of a sturdy wooden bridge that created a passage over the gully. The silence was more or less continually broken by the scraping, bass rumble of the boulders which sped down it.

"Let me run the lead. We'll take the nearest available cover and survey the area." Brian was already preparing by putting his M16 away in preference for the M14. The rifle's scope and more powerful 7.62mm round would be invaluable if it came down to needing sniper support. "After he gets the door open tell him to make tracks and get back with the other Snowhorn."

Krystal nodded at him, turning to the Snowhorn as she started to prepare herself as best she could. "Once you get the door open, go back to the huts outside the lava pit. We took care of the Sharpclaw and freed your friends." The mammoth nodded at her, keeping silent. Her senses picked up on the gratitude, hope, and relief he felt. They were doing the right thing, saving innocent lives. Her training as a Guardian would not go to waste.

The Snowhorn marched forward, protected by Brian's and Krystal's watchful eyes and firearms. The fixed wooden bridge creaked slightly under the weight yet held up quite well. The wooden gate loomed ahead, Krystal reaching out to try to discern thought patterns from the other side. Everything was eerily quiet, as if there were no living things beyond the gate. That alone was unsettling. If there were guards present she would have picked up on their thought patterns.

As the mammoth reached the door Brian motioned Krystal behind him. "This is it. What're your senses telling you?" The familiar tight feeling in his stomach returned, an anxiety honed to usefulness with his training and combat experience. He tucked the M14's walnut stock into his shoulder, using his own body to create the natural pocket in which to provide an accurate firing platform. His left arm wrapped around the rifle's sling, using it to lock the weapon further into his body.

"I can't sense anything." Krystal's reply was tense as she followed Brian's actions. She braced her M4 against her shoulder as well as she could and adopted a similar stance. She wasn't familiar with the weapon he was using, but the telescopic sight on top indicated it to be a precision weapon for combat at long ranges. If they were going to be facing opponents from outside the range of her telepathic abilities, it would be needed.

"It's go time. Tell him to breach the door." At Brian's command she gave the Snowhorn a nod. Everyone knew what that meant. The door was stoutly constructed, perhaps eight inches of overlapping solid wood planks held together by wrought iron brackets. The crossbrace barring it was fashioned out of a single tree trunk and added another eight inches of wood to break through.

In comparison, the average adult Snowhorn stood at thirteen feet tall and weighed in at nearly nineteen thousand pounds. Even weakened by abuse and lack of food, the amount of punishment the captive Snowhorn gave the door was enough to snap its crossbrace like a twig. The heavy wooden construct flung open as if it were subjected to a hurricane, creating a cacophony of cracking wood and shrieking hinges as it was battered against the rock walls which framed it with enough force to destroy it.

Wisely, after the display of brute force the Snowhorn backed away from the opening. His mate was being held at the village the Sharpclaws used to house their work shifts, and it was a very good idea to stay away from the two aliens as they waged war against their Sharpclaw oppressors.

"Well, there goes the element of surprise." Brian's quip carried to the frozen air as they moved forward. The rock walls stretched on to frame a large natural clearing, perhaps four hundred yards in diameter. A shoddily-constructed hut stood in its center, while a treacherous path created by a narrow footbridge led to the cliffs above the bowl. In most places the rock walls stretched up to nearly a hundred feet, leaving them almost completely exposed. The tactical situation, frankly, looked pretty grim.

Krystal's senses were stretched to the limit, trying to find something, anything that could be waiting to ambush them. The silence and lack of anything except for a few snow-dwelling rodents was cause for alarm. This place shouldn't be unguarded. Unless they were focusing on a bigger threat or were already attacked…

Her thought stopped as her vision settled on a snow-covered lump in front of them. As if on cue, Brian kicked at it absentmindedly, though that stopped as the snow cascaded off the object. The glassy, dead eyes of the revealed Sharpclaw corpse stared back at them in an almost accusing manner, as if it blamed its death on them from beyond the grave.

"What the…?" Brian didn't finish his sentence. The Saurian's cause of death was readily apparent and very alarming at the same time. A neat round hole was bored into its chest, surrounded with a frozen crimson stain on its armor. The entry wound looked smaller than the muskets the Sharpclaw typically used. Where was the shooter? What was…

Brian didn't have the time to finish the thought. One second he was standing up and the next he was flat on his back in the snow. A crushing pain soaked into his chest, which caused him to look down. The armor he was wearing was once again shredded and mangled, a patch right around his heart. Simultaneously, the roaring echo of a high-powered rifle bounced off the rock walls.

"Brian!" Krystal screamed, rushing up to grab his arm and drag him further behind what little cover they had. A snapping, whizzing sound raced by her ear, followed by another echoing report. Her blood ran cold when the realization came.

She had just missed death by mere inches.

**Notes: Yep, the dreaded cliffhanger ending is back! I'm going to try a slightly different format for the next few chapters and see if this can change the speed in which I can post things. I've noticed that the past few chapters I've written have been fairly long. I'm wondering if shortening them up a bit can help speed things up. I'll be working on both Brian and Krystal's storyline as well as what's happening with Fox; that should get some variety going as well.**

**I'm appreciating the feedback I've been getting. There's a few reviewers who don't have accounts; I'm definitely in awe of the dedication in following this story without subscribing, so major thanks go out to folks like Comrade and Northern-Megas. That said, reviews and feedback are especially welcomed. How am I doing with this? Are you liking the new direction I'm taking things? What changes should be made, and what questions have popped up that need to be answered? I have my own plans, but feedback and reviews do help shape the story. Once again, thanks go out to everyone for their continued support. This story wouldn't be possible without it.**


	19. Chapter 17: Engagement

Chapter 17: Engagement.

"Secondary target in range. I have a shot." Despite the freezing temperatures the advanced armor the mercenary was wearing was keeping him quite warm. It was one of the best infiltration suits money could buy; the special coating on the ceramic plates kept his heat signature to a minimum, while electronic jamming systems kept lifesign sensors from detecting anything larger than a small rodent. With its integrated life support system even laying down in the snow for a few hours was completely comfortable.

Their client had provided the six-member team the best equipment developed by Cornerian government contractors. The Spectre armor systems were brand new, and a healthy arsenal from CDI and Laken had already been sitting in their ship's armory. The lithe feline merc was providing overwatch and sniper support for the other members, laying in a natural cavern overlooking the open bowl they had prepared an ambush from.

They had been tracking their target for months, and were already behind schedule. Their client had grown quite impatient, and considering the small fortune in equipment provided as a down payment that was a completely understandable state of mind. In all honesty, Kale Duesett was ready for this extended trip to be over. They were already over a week from the time allotted, including the time it took for them to elude the Venom Remnant forces who were assaulting the stricken planet. Eight targets down, one left to go.

"Take it." The clipped, aggravated voice came from Kalina Marsen, who had been ousted from her position as sniper. Her mistake killed this particular Channeler's family member and not her, so essentially she was the cause for the delays. That wasn't a fact the other team members were willing to let her forget.

"Taking the shot." Duesett shifted the weapon he was using. After their encounter with Venomian troops they decided the experimental projectile weapons from CDI were their best defense against foes with body armor and personal shields. Creator knew how their client managed to get a hold of them, but he was grateful. The sniper rifle was called a PR-SV, firing a high-caliber 7.62mm tungsten projectile. The purely mechanical weapon felt quite primitive yet was blessed with the latest sniper optics to come out of the otherwise high-tech firm. The scope's integrated rangefinder fell on the chest of the secondary target, some sort of armored alien wearing a strange camouflage pattern. He(at least as far as he could tell its gender) was armed with a strange scope-equipped rifle; what looked to be a similar ammunition magazine to a PR-74 was mounted on the bottom. The alien kicked at the snow, exposing the corpse of the native lizard soldier he had shot hours ago when securing his perch.

The distance was just over four hundred meters. The scope's sensors didn't detect any wind gusts to throw the projectile off-target and automatically calculated for the fall of gravity. Duesett shifted his aiming point and gently stroked the trigger. The rifle's sharp crack was muted by his helmet's integrated hearing protection but its recoil snapped into his shoulder, affording him only a glimpse of the alien falling to the frozen earth before it drifted off target.

The merc quickly reacquired his target, now lying on his back in the snow. With the scope's magnification he could see a portion of its armor was now mangled. Nobody could have survived that hit. Another body entered his field of view, elation and excitement instantly flooding his mind. This was it. "Primary target sighted. Taking the shot."

The Cerinian Channeler they had tracked down through an entire cluster was in his sights. The scope's calculations once again told him where to hold. As he took aim the vixen frantically struggled to pull her alien companion to safety. It was a move that would be paid for with her life. His finger tightened on the trigger once more.

Once again the rifle's recoil forced him off-target, yet he didn't see the puff of red mist that signified a head hit with a powerful weapon. He didn't see the Channeler fall. He didn't see either of them. With precision and discipline drilled into him from his time in the Cornerian Rangers, he relayed this information to the rest of the team. "Secondary target is hit, likely down. Primary target is likely a miss. Close in with caution."

"Acknowledged." Marsen's voice cut in, an amused tone in the fox's voice. "Turns out you were able to hit her about as well as I did. Good job, Duesett. Watch how a real professional handles this."

"Oh, fuck off." Duesett growled.

* * *

"Brian! Are you okay?" Krystal's voice belied her fear and concern for her friend's well being. Despite the freezing environment she felt like she was overheating, the adrenaline pumping through her body making itself known. Within an instant her staff was in her hands, her thumb hovering over the glyph which would activate its shield matrix. "What happened?"

"Fucker shot me!" The Marine groaned, struggling to reach a sitting position. His own adrenaline rush was in full force, though through his training he knew exactly how to control it. With shaking hands he stripped out of his gear; if the round he was hit with penetrated the vest they were in deep shit. They were in a safe enough location, or so he hoped; there was no direct line of sight to the rock walls surrounding the natural depression they were trying to enter. "They've got a fucking sniper!"

"A what?" The vixen shouted back, reaching out with her senses. They were telling her nothing, like the terrain ahead was completely devoid of life. That fact alarmed her. Were they facing an enemy who was able to fool her abilities?

"Long range sharpshooter! They'll find places to hide and try to pick you off from a distance!" The Marine breathed a sigh of relief as his uniform was devoid of any holes or blood. Yet, there was the danger that whatever hit him had cracked or broken ribs; whatever he was hit with packed enough punch to put his ass down.

"How do we get past this sniper, then?" Her heart was trying to pound its way out of her chest. While she went through combat training as a Guardian, this sort of conflict wasn't anything even dreamed about on Cerinia.

For Brian, however, this was his element. This was the dangerous game he played on an almost daily basis for the past two years. He had faced sniper fire before, though he had been lucky enough not to get hit. That track record had very well been broken. "We can retreat and try to stage an ambush, but that might put the Snowhorn back there in danger. I don't have smoke grenades, and we can't call in arty or extra support. We can rush them and hope we don't get hit before finding better cover. If I can get line of sight, I can try to engage."

Krystal took a deep breath. Out of the two options she couldn't place the Snowhorn in further danger, especially not from an enemy with unknown capabilities. Rushing them also sounded very dangerous, though she had a hidden advantage. "Okay, we rush them. Under one condition."

"What's that?" Brian struggled with his armor and combat gear; despite the adrenaline the agony from his ribs made it hard to move. He was going to have a hard time of it, but the job had to be done. It beat getting picked off by whoever decided to take a shot at them.

"Stay right behind me. My staff can project an energy shield, remember?" A memory from a few days ago was brought to mind, that same energy shield's presence had stopped General Scales from ripping his throat open. With luck it could stop bullets. Krystal stood up with an expression of determination incarnate. She had swapped her staff to her left hand; her right was busy pulling her M9 pistol out of its holster.

"Okay. It's a deal." The Marine slung his M14 over his shoulder; the M16 would be a better weapon to use if he had to fire back while running. "Keep on the move. Change your direction often. Be unpredictable. If this bastard can't get a clean shot off we'll be fine."

"Let's go!" The vixen growled, rushing forward as a sky blue globe of energy flared from her staff, quickly growing to encompass a one meter radius around her body. Brian treated it for what it was: portable cover. Even with that advantage crossing open terrain under fire was quite dangerous. He would have to determine the sniper's position, and fast.

That didn't take long. As they rushed up the snow-covered hill another _crack_ echoed from the cliffs, the bullet slamming into Krystal's shield at supersonic speeds. The swirling energy field briefly flashed a purple color yet quickly recovered. Brian snapped his M16 to his shoulder, looking for any sign of a shot being fired.

The sniper was located on the second shot, a puff of snow kicked up by the weapon's muzzle. That was a rookie mistake; any sniper worth their salt would know about muzzle blast giving away their position. Training kicked in despite the agonizing pain. "Contact front, three-fifty meters!" His yell carried over to Krystal, who was momentarily confused. "Laying down suppressive fire!"

* * *

Duesett glanced through the scope, his jaw dropping in disbelief. These weapons were supposed to pass through energy shields like they weren't even there. The Cerinian's staff was generating a field strong enough to stop the high-powered sniper rifle he was currently using. That wasn't good.

"Closing team, be advised!" His voice carried through the open comm channel, devoid of anything but the excitement that comes from a new engagement. "Channeler has some sort of an energy shield. My fire is not…" Duesett was cut off as something smacked into the rock two meters to his left, creating a loud _spang_ that echoed loudly and clearly even with his hearing protection. Within an instant the sounds were incessant, accompanied by a series of sharp _cracks_ coming from the Cerinian's position.

"Shit! Taking fire!" The former Ranger scooted back, trying to create a smaller target while providing a critical new piece of information to his comrades in profit. "Secondary target is not down! Repeat, secondary target is not down and is armed with a projectile rifle of some kind!"

"Roger that." The deep baritone of their support specialist, Mick Fetger, carried over the channel. "Looks like they're trying to suppress you. Hold tight."

Marsen's voice cut in immediately afterward. "Have visual on primary and secondary targets. They just took cover behind the lizards' command hut. Both are armed with what looks like projectile weapons, unknown type." There was a short pause. "Fetger, move in to engage. I'll cover you."

The relative silence was almost immediately broken up by the chatter of automatic weapons fire.

* * *

Brian and Krystal reached the safety of the hut within seconds, rushing at full speed while the Marine kept on firing at the sniper's position. The building was very stoutly constructed, its frozen earth walls easily capable of shrugging off the sniper's fire. "Made it! You alright, Krys?" Brian took the time to change out his magazine, gritting his teeth through the pain shooting through his chest.

"I'm not shot." The Cerinian took a moment to look around, grateful for the insulation her flightsuit was providing. They were in a safer area, giving her time to reach out with her senses. Their repositioning had given them quite a bit of advantage, the faint traces of thought patterns moving around them at long distances. She couldn't quite make out the 'sniper' Brian was shooting at earlier, but the others were cause for alarm. "Two more coming from our left! I think…"

Her sentence was cut off as the rattle of an automatic weapon caused her to drop to the ground. The walls of the hut exploded with pock marks as fire rained down on their position. The snapping, popping sound of rifle rounds sailing overhead reached Brian's trained ears, along with the unmistakable report of a Kalashnikov. "The Snowhorns were wrong! It's the fucking insurgents!" The Marine fired back, bursts of 5.56mm rounds competing with the AK being fired at them.

Krystal activated the energy shield on her staff, gritting her teeth as she did so. They needed more information so she reached out to the two aggressors. Their thoughts didn't fit that of Brian's kind. They were, in fact… Lylatian. Yet, why were they armed with similar weapons to her human friend? She pushed in harder to find out.

The truth hit her like a slap to the face. She was their target. They were out to kill _her_. A fuzzy mental image crossed her mind, projected by one of them. That fateful night on Cerinia. Her mother, struck down by a blaster bolt meant for her. The one who killed her mother was here, firing right at them. She was going to finish the job if she didn't do anything about it.

Brian wasn't sure what he was hearing, but it sounded like her native language. Krystal's voice was panicked at first yet anger quickly took over; punctuated by an inhuman growl as the vixen exchanged her staff and handgun for the M4 Carbine slung across her back. "_A ned'k cok kxaj xuffod! A ned'k cok 0ei xuhm ud0edo ocjo, 0ei leat-tumdot raksx!"_

The Marine raised his rifle as the two figures came clearly into view. They weren't Iraqi insurgents. The slate black armor they were cocooned in wasn't anything remotely near what they wore. They didn't have tails, either. Yet, that left one big mystery in the air. If these were Lylatians or Venomians with access to powerful laser guns, why the fuck were they carrying what looked to be exact copies of an AK74 and RPK-74? He didn't have time to speculate. The one with the RPK represented the greater threat, so he placed the sight blade over its chest and fired off a burst.

Mick Fetger was hit with all three rounds of standard issue 5.56x45mm M855 ammunition. The armor he was wearing was some of the most advanced to come out of Wardtek, one of the primary body armor suppliers to the CDF. Unbeknownst to its designers, the polyceramic plates that comprised the Shade infiltration armor was very similar in composition to the layers of ceramic discs that made up Brian's Pinnacle Armor Dragon Skin vest. The three small, high-velocity slugs slammed into the armor's chestpiece, cracking the plate itself and sending the Lylatian merc to the ground, yet not seriously wounding him.

At the same time Krystal rushed away from cover before Brian had time to shout. She stopped thirty yards away from the hut, leveling her borrowed carbine at the one who had destroyed her life. Her conscience screamed at her; she was forgetting her training at the most crucial moment. Her rage screamed much louder. All the pain, fear, and sorrow was now directed at the one being she knew was responsible; the armored figure in front of her. Her thumb flicked the M4's fire selector to burst as she snapped the weapon to her shoulder. As her opponent leveled her own rifle at the Cerinian, she fired.

The female merc fell back, the rifle she was wielding firing wildly as she hit the ground. Krystal then felt like she had been punched in the shoulder by a Sharpclaw, her breath knocked out of her as she hit the frozen, snow-covered terrain. The pain hit a mere second later; an agonizing, burning sensation that felt like her entire body was on fire from the inside out. A moment later she realized the scream carrying through the air was her own.

As Krystal's agonized cry cut through the air, Brian's blood ran cold. She had been hit. "Fuck!" the Marine growled, breaking his cover to run towards the stricken vixen. Movement to his right caused him to stop; the opponent he had previously shot was getting back up. Two more bursts rattled the chilled air, sending the merc back down. This bought him the precious seconds he needed to make it over to her, fear gripping his heart when he saw the solitary hole punched through her left shoulder. Blood flowed from the wound in an unstoppable torrent.

They were in an impossible situation. Those bastards weren't going down easy, and now Krystal was severely wounded. "Hang on! I need to take care of these assholes!" The Marine's hand went to his shoulder, plucking his last M67 grenade from its resting place on his web gear. Their two assailants were struggling to get back up, which meant he had mere seconds to act.

* * *

From his vantage point Duesett could see his two teammates taking fire. The thunder of projectile rifles firing was muted by both distance and his armor's hearing protection, but the Cerinian and her alien comrade were fighting back with the ferocity of cornered beasts. This wouldn't be as easy of a job as their client had made it out to be.

Fetger fell, a string of pained curses carrying over the voice channel. "Bastard shot me! Armor's taking a beating, here!" Whatever the alien soldier was using it was pretty effective; their infiltration armor was designed to take moderate shrapnel damage. Did it protect against projectile rifles?

Marsen was the next to get hit, her pained grunt carrying into his ears. "Damn Cerinian! Armor still holding! Got a hit on her; she might be down!" Finally, some good news. The sooner they could take care of her, the sooner they'd be off this doomed rock and getting paid.

Duesett's gaze fell on Fetger, who was struggling to get his larger PR-74L on target. Before he could open fire two short automatic bursts roared from behind the hut, causing the wolf to crumple back to the snow. "Fucking ass-sniffing whelp! I'm going to kill you!"

The sniper switched his helmet's HUD to a status readout. Fetger's armor wasn't faring well; its sensors reporting that its integrity was well into the red. Marsen's was doing better, but… "Shit! Grenade!" the vixen's voice called out, but it was too late. The blast shook snow off of rocks even from his overwatch position; the two mercs were tossed aside like broken toys. Almost simultaneously the armor's combat software suite pulsed four sharp beeps into his ear, the standard signal that a comrade had been killed. Fetger's armor readout was black; he didn't survive the blast. Marsen's vitals were stable, but her armor was heavily damaged and she had been knocked unconscious. She'd feel that one in the morning.

"Element two, move to intercept and flush them out! Marsen's hit, Fetger's down!" Duesett tucked the PR-SV's stock into his shoulder, sighting in on where he expected the alien to make his appearance.

"Roger that." Violetta Dragen's voice echoed into his ear. The raccoon was a former Venom Eradicator, the heavily armored spaceborne shock troopers who had struck fear into most Cornerian soldiers. Instead of being clad in the others' infiltration armor she opted for her old Eradicator suit; it would take far more punishment than anything else they had. If the alien dropped another grenade the Eradicator armor would just laugh at it. "Coming at them from the left flank. Watch your fire with that damn thing, Kale. I just had my armor painted before this op."

"Alright, alright." Taking a deep breath he steadied his aim. "C'mon out, you bastard. I'll make it quick and easy for ya."

* * *

There was no time to tend to Krystal's wound. Two figures were coming at them from behind, replacing the motionless ones in front of them as the primary threat. One of them was outfitted in some ludicrously bulky, black armor and toting another RPK-74. Grabbing the other assailant's LMG came to mind, but he wouldn't be able to do what he needed to.

She wasn't in good shape. Her eyes were glazed over with a mixture of shock and pain, cementing his responsibility to get her out alive. He wasn't sure what these bastards were after, but he wasn't about to leave her for them.

The Marine shouldered his M16, firing off the remainder of its magazine at the two attackers. The torrent of 5.56mm lead didn't do much except cause them to seek cover, but the time it bought him was worth the ammunition. "I've getting us out of this mess! Stay with me, Krys!" After letting his M16 dangle from its tactical sling he plucked her M9 from its holster and stuffed it into his belt. He would be down to firing handguns after this. "I'm not going to let these sons of bitches kill us." Without any preamble he scooped her up, slinging her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. This elicited a pained cry from her lips, but he didn't have the luxury of being gentle.

"Please... help." Krystal winced, the pain radiating through her in waves. "They're here... to kill me." Fighting against blood loss and the excruciating agony her hand went for her staff. "Shield good... few more..." Her last conscious action was to activate the glyph, the swirling energy field covering them both. The darkness which was hovering on the edge of her vision overcame her sight, the pain mercifully fading away with it.

Brian took a deep breath, muttering a quick prayer under his breath. He never was much of a pious man, but they needed every bit of help they were going to get. Time was running out. He had to move. The Marine rushed forward into the line of fire, keeping his eyes open for some sort of cover or escape. The shield flashed in front of him, followed by the report of the sniper rifle waiting to target them once they broke from cover. He wasn't sure what she said, but it likely wouldn't last under such punishment.

Automatic fire joined in shortly afterwards, the clattering of Kalashnikovs from the two remaining assailants competing with the unknown sniper. With their armor his handguns would be useless. There had to be a way out. Seconds felt like hours as he attempted to evade the incoming fire; the stabbing pain in his ribcage and the added weight of carrying Krystal made the experience brutal. The only advantage he had was that he was trained for this. They didn't call it the Crucible for nothing.

"Come get me, you motherfuckers!" His shout served to steel his nerve as well as rile his enemies. With rounds buzzing all around him and the shield's hue rapidly changing from blue to purple, he found his opening; a large tunnel mouth several meters to his left. Without thinking twice the Marine charged in, carrying his wounded friend away from the torrent of gunfire. The terrain broke up as he ran, the short yet cavernous feature opening up into what looked to be some sort of loading yard for the mine complex. Stacks of boxes were haphazardly scattered, many of them crushed by the sleek-looking, obsidian spaceship that had landed among them.

That revelation solved the mystery of where the bastards had come from. The ship was likely locked up and no use to them at the moment, though if he somehow dusted the rest of the assholes it could make for a better craft than Krystal's crippled shuttle.

A shout jarred him from his thoughts. "They're passing the ship right now!" Brian whirled around, his hand yanking his M1911 from its holster as he locked eyes with another one of the strange antagonists. This was one of the Lylatians Krystal had mentioned, he was sure. If she was a fox, this one was a rat of some kind. His white fur stood out from the black jumpsuit he was wearing, in a cut similar to Krystal's. What drew the most attention was that he was reaching for some sort of exotic-looking sidearm.

Brian already had his weapon out. The Colt thundered its report into the freezing air, double thunderclaps heralding the two 230-grain hardball rounds that punched into the Lylatian merc's chest. His point of aim shifted upwards, a third round blasting its way into the rat's head from a distance of ten yards away. He was dead before he even hit the ground.

There was no telling how many of the bastards were out there, but he had to move. His first priority was to get his severely wounded friend to a safe enough place to patch her up and then continue to evade them as best he could. Beyond the relative shelter of the loading yard a blizzard raged. The territory was inhospitable, but it afforded him the best chance to get her to safety.

* * *

Olan's warning was cut off by another series of beeps coming over the comm channel. Barely after he had uttered them he was dead; the former CDF transport pilot's lifesign readout blanking out like Fetger's had. The alien bastard had to be military of some sort. The strangely camouflaged uniform had some sort of rank and unit patches on it, but unlike any he had ever seen. His armor stopped a damn projectile rifle shot, and he was using weapons that seemed to be improved versions of the prototypes they carried.

Kale growled out a curse. The alien son of a bitch had taken out a third of the team. Fetger was an experienced Venom War vet; Olan a solid, reliable pilot. Despite the fact their shares would be distributed amongst the surviving team members, things weren't looking good. They had taken care of eight of the Channelers without so much as taking fire from the Venomian troops ravaging Cerinia; the young one was by far giving them the most trouble. Even if she was dead and the alien was simply dragging her corpse around, they still needed physical evidence of her death.

"Break it off, everyone." Kale hissed, his mind grasping at straws to formulate a plan. "They're going to be driven into the mines. Between us and the lizards there's no way out for them."

"I've got a suggestion." Dragen's voice was deceptively calm; despite their differences in ideology he knew enough about the Eradicator to fully understand what she was capable of when she was pissed off. Olan had been an on-and-off lover of hers; as such he was one of the few living beings she cared about. Already the alien combatant had sealed his fate; he would be begging for death long before it would find him. "Send in the drones."

**Notes: Sorry if this one came a little late. Real life getting in the way of that one in the form of a recent move. I do need to ask a question, however. As a reader, are you enjoying the storyline with Brian and Krystal more, or would you like me to focus on the storyline that includes Fox McCloud's fact-finding mission to Cerinia? I really need feedback on this. As of posting this I'd say the next Brian/Krystal chapter is about 5% done, and the next Second Arc chapter is about 75%. That'll likely be the next release, but feedback is always good.**

**Also, I changed the title of the last chapter to reflect what it actually is. Forgot to update that field when I posted this chapter.**


	20. Second Arc 2

**26 December 3048 LDC**

**Fisker Station Beta, Aquas**

**14:36 Aquas Standardized Time**

The courtyard was quite small, perhaps fifty square meters across; a luxury of open space on a station whose floorplans would have covered nearly a hundred square kilometers if it had actually been spread out over the surface of a planet. Either way, the hotel which occupied the periphery of the courtyard extended for three floors above; topped with a display which mimicked the appearance of blue sky overhead. Along with sophisticated lights which gave off about the same amount of brightness as natural sunlight, the hotel was as close to being outdoors as it got on a sealed space station.

None of this really mattered to the fifty or so occupants of the hotel; the bewildered, tragedy-stricken survivors of a race which was for most intents and purposes almost extinct. Out of Cerinia's population of eighteen million, only forty-seven survivors made it to the safety of the Lylat System. None of them were prepared for the stark differences between their society and the one which now sheltered them, save a handful who had dealings with the Lylatian traders who had visited their world over the years.

Maloc Haleth mulled over the particular circumstances which brought them to this point; two months cooped up in five luxury shuttles, subsisting on emergency supplies. It was later found out that the Lylatian traders who had given them the means to survive the Venomian onslaught which had killed so many of their fellow Cerinians were actually breaking the law giving them technology in the first place; their very existence owed to the actions of a few renegades seeking profit, knowledge, and peaceful relations with their kind. Either way they had been sequestered in the hotel for nearly three days; the Lylatian officials said it was for their protection but most of them were growing restless.

Maloc hated to say it, but he was among them. What little comfort he had was that his father assured them that the Lylatians meant well and genuinely wanted to protect them. Yet, from what? Weren't they safe in their territory, the damage from the Venomians already done? The questions still remained, let alone what had become of his sister. She had been one of their targets; his mother among the unlucky masses whose lives were claimed by the genocidal bastards.

That brought him to the present moment. As the son of the only living Council member and one of a handful of Cerinians who had any knowledge of Lylatian language, culture, history, and technology, he was saddled with plentiful 'interviews' with Cornerian Intelligence Bureau agents. The avian sitting across from him was one of them; a nondescript avian whose mottled brown plumage was a close match to the now-extinct Jinbird on his home planet.

"I'm sorry to say that the craft you described hasn't shown up on any sensor stations in the system." Maloc wasn't an Adept like his father and sister, but the sincerity in the man's voice came off in waves. He likely learned the hard way it wasn't easy or wise to keep secrets from a group of telepaths. "Even with a damaged Slipdrive it would have come in by now, unless its fuel system was compromised."

"So what you're telling me is that Krystal was either killed over Cerinia by a Venomian ship or her shuttle ran out of fuel, killing her in stasis." Maloc sighed, the gesture not even coming close to communicating how heavy his heart felt at the news. "Even if against all odds her shuttle landed on a habitable planet, her chances of survival without proper medical care to bring her out would be slim to none." Part of him had prepared for the news his sister was dead, but the reality didn't sink in without the stabbing presence of grief.

"I know my words are a hollow comfort, but you did the right thing. The Venomians were looking for your sister for a reason, and sending her away like that could save countless lives. I think we understand why." He paused for a moment and gestured to the datapad sitting on the table between them. "Do you know much about the Lylatian War, Mr. Haleth?"

"Only the basics." Maloc admitted. "The exiled Andross Oikonny organizing the scattered and angry settlements of Venom into a sizable military force, using mercenaries and pirates to expand their arsenal. They were defeated and Andross killed by Fox McCloud, right?"

"In a nutshell, yes. However, one subject usually glossed over in the history books is the use of biological warfare and genetic experimentation by Venomian scientists, headed up by Andross himself. At the end of the war he had experimented on himself so thoroughly that he was simply the mind of a madman in the body of a powerful biological construct. Evidence we collected after the war suggested that he prepared for his death and had a clone body hidden somewhere, waiting for the technology to come along to bring him back to life. Essentially, this would require his consciousness to be transferred from the machine storing his thought patterns to an actual living body. Would that be possible for a Channeler to accomplish?"

Maloc thought that over for a moment, glancing at the agent's datapad. He wasn't well-versed in what those with Talents could or couldn't accomplish, but his father was currently meeting with other agents; his efforts in getting them some more freedom to wander around parts of the station had been gaining a little bit of headway. Yet something told him that at the very least his sister, in death, was safe from being used as a conduit to bring one of the most vile beings in the galaxy back to life. With her innate talents it was entirely possible. "Yes, I think it would be, though High Priest Gartol would know more about it than I would."

"Would you mind if I speak with him?" The agent collected his datapad and began to pull away from his chair, but was stopped by a gesture from Maloc.

"You may do so after my father and I speak with him. If you'll excuse me, we have to make arrangements for the memorial service for both my mother and sister." He stood up and made his way across the courtyard before the agent could see the tears streaming down his cheeks.

**28 December, 3048 LDC**

**Open space coordinates 103678.4/3673084.332/84830337.001**

**Within 150km of CDI Orbital Platform ZX-1032**

**18:00 Local Station Time**

The profile of the _Great Fox_ hung suspended in the silent, airless void of space, overlooking the hive of activity before them. Several smaller ships hung around the massive ringlike profile of the Beltino Gate they were working on. If he strained his eyesight, Fox could make out the swarm of workers in spacesuits making final preparations to the Gate. An hour remained before they would make the trip out to Cerinia.

Slippy had tried explaining the details behind the Warp Gate system, but the particulars had made his head spin. He had barely passed his Applied Physics classes at the Academy, mainly due to Slippy's all-night cram sessions and unwillingness to let his friend get drummed out due to a failing grade. The most he understood was that the gate worked off the Metzer Principle; the more precisely you knew the location of a certain subatomic particle, its movement couldn't be tracked as accurately. At least that's how Slippy tried explaining it to him. Either way the Warp Gates used what was called quantum shifting, basically 'tricking' reality that a specific particle was in one place when actually it was in another.

What this did was make nearly instantaneous travel between two distant points possible. A standard shuttle trip from Corneria to Aquas would take all of sixteen hours in Slipspace from orbital station to orbital station. A Warp Gate trip would take only two hours, including the time it took to get to and from the Lagrange points the Warp Gates were typically stationed at.

Travel by Gate was extremely expensive. The previously mentioned trip to Aquas via Slipspace was around 800 credits. By Gate it was 12,000. The power requirements for a Gate were enormous, and as such only governments, corporations, or the very wealthy could afford the luxury. Also, Gates could only be safely set up at Lagrange points; while a rare occurrence gravitational interference by a planetary body or rogue asteroid could alter the exit point of the Gate. Either way, Peppy ran the numbers and came up with the fact their trip to Cerinia was going to cost the CDI several times what they were paying them in the first place. The beancounters in Corneria City wouldn't be pleased, but at least it wasn't going to be a four month trip just to collect some facts.

The _Great Fox _would be accompanied through the Gate by the _CDI Spirit of Integrity_; a large container ship. The freighter dwarfed their dreadnaught, one of the few available that could transport a partially-assembled Warp Gate. The plan was to survey Cerinia while the _Integrity_ set the Gate up for the return trip. Slippy would be the chief technical advisor for that particular project, while Peppy would stay aboard the _Great Fox_ to guard the container ship from any possible Venomian retaliation.

That left Fox to baby-sit the scientists who were going to do the survey. Why they would send weapons designers to do a science team's job was beyond him. He was being paid to do this job, but the voice at the back of his mind kept on nagging him that something wasn't right. His father always told him to trust his instincts, and they were screaming at him to keep his eyes open and expect anything. Yet for the time being there was nothing to do but sit and wait on the empty bridge until the Gate sprung into action. His fingers danced on the notebook computer that was mounted on the captain's seat; one of a few luxuries he allowed himself. He fired up the integrated media player and queued up one of his favorite playlists. Within seconds the harsh screaming of electric guitars poured in over the bridge's PA system. Fox McCloud wasn't one to wait in silence.

* * *

**Open space coordinates 103678.4/3673084.332/84830337.001**

**Within 150km of CDI Orbital Platform ZX-1032**

**18:50 Local Station Time**

Without any fanfare the myriad of ships tending to the Gate had pulled back to a safe distance. Fox paused his music and shifted his gaze from the Hypernet browser window on his notebook to the massive ominous ring hovering ten kilometers away. The gate sprung to life, a pinkish-purple swirling vortex of energy popping into existence within a few seconds. The communication system chimed on cue, a nameless CDI project director's voice carrying over the same PA system the vulpine mercenary had been blasting his music on only a minute prior.

"This is Gate Control. Warp Gate system online. Running normal testing sequence with outsystem coordinates VX3270 dash EX34965 dash GAV6239A point 63221. Estimated time of Gate contact is three minutes. Expedition craft, please report in." The mission was only a few minutes away from initiating. Due to the dangers from both a possible Remnant ambush and establishing a Gate transfer without any receiving Gate, a probe was to be sent in first to scout the area.

"This is Captain Erich Bainsmat of the CDI container ship _Spirit of Integrity_. Cargo is properly secured and all systems are in the green. We're ready to go when prompted, Gate Control."

Fox keyed the microphone, pulling up the _Great Fox's_ datastream program on his notebook. "This is Fox McCloud of the _Great Fox_. All systems nominal and main weapons are on standby. We are ready to proceed when you are, Gate Control." As he turned off the mic the door to the bridge slid open, both Slippy and Peppy rushing to their assigned stations. They didn't do Gate travel that often but they still were capable of running things like a well-oiled machine.

"Fox, everything's secured in the launch bay. We got their shuttle docked in front of the Arwings." Peppy turned to his navigation console, reviewing the information that Gate Control had sent to their navicomputer. The two CDI scientists would be using a Space Dynamics XK-134 Shrike-class assault shuttle for their survey mission, which boasted enough firepower to help repel any starfighter attack. Fox would be flying escort with his Arwing, which gave them a comfortable margin of safety.

"I've been keeping an eye on Gate Control." Slippy chimed in. "They should be launching the probe in a couple of minutes. From the telemetry feed they've got a lock on Cerinia's location and we should be gating in about 75,000 kilometers away."

"Good work, everyone. How are our guests?" Fox was still a little suspicious about the two, though he wouldn't be one to second-guess a client's wishes with this large a paycheck on the line. Still, he fully believed his duty would always be to protect Cornerian interests first and foremost; if CDI was pulling any funny business Pepper would be the first to know.

"They're finishing up stocking our armory with the weapons they promised." Peppy scratched his chin. "They were pretty secretive about all of it, but they promised us a familiarity course once we got back to the station. Are you sure these are advanced prototypes? They look rather simplistic to me."

"I guess appearances can be deceiving, Pep." Fox replied, continuing to gaze out the main viewport. "Either way if we need to get out on the ground I'm going to be carrying along my blaster. They can deal with the prototypes."

Peppy was about to speak up but was cut off by another chime from the PA. "Gate Control here. We're sending the probe in now. Gate transmission in five, four..." As the countdown continued the small, blocky sensor package could be seen streaking towards the Gate's vortex. It hit the energy field, causing a small section of it to flash bluish-grey before returning to its original color.

"Alright, we're getting a sensor feed right now. No video, but the sensor suite is showing no active ship transponders. It's indicating scattered ship wreckage here and there, but nothing larger than a passenger transport shuttle. We're picking up a bunch of old ion trails so there was a lot of ship activity at one point. The planet's in one piece so we're doubting the Remanant used one of their core disruption bombs. We're not picking up any lifesigns, either. For all intents and purposes this looks to be a dead system. You are cleared to go through. _Great Fox_, you'll go in first. Clear a safe zone of fifty kilometers then report back. We'll then send the _Integrity_ through to set the gate up."

"Copy that, Gate Control." Fox responded. "Moving through the gate now." With a deep breath he glanced to his two friends, the teammates who had shared every victory and every defeat he had been through since they rebuilt the team after his father's passing. "Let's do this."

"You got it, Fox." Peppy's hands danced over the controls, guiding the dreadnaught forward under a fraction of the engine's nominal power output. The Gate loomed before them, its ethereal glow filling the viewport as they crept closer. The transparent material responded by growing darker, saving the crew's eyes from any discomfort.

Passing through the Gate itself was an anticlimax. As the viewport contacted the energy field the picture beyond became blurry, yet nobody noticed anything wrong as the energy swirled around them. The impossibly complex orchestration of subatomic particles comprising the ship and its crew manifested itself as a slight pins and needles sensation, yet was over as soon as they became consciously aware of it.

The blurriness faded as the Gate transfer completed, the _Great Fox_ crossing a gulf of sixty-seven light years in a timespan of mere seconds. The three members of the Star Fox team immediately went to work, the dreadnaught's sensor suites casting a far superior net than the probe.

"Okay, let's get out of the way of the Gate path and get this preliminary system scan done." Fox's fingers flew over the keyboard on his notebook, bringing up the ship's integrated mapping software. Going by the information copied from the Traders' Guild records they were in the right place.

The scene past the viewport was hauntingly beautiful. A distant sun cast light on the lone planet and its two moons; Cerinia seemed to stand as a mute testament to what happened to its inhabitants. The sapphire oceans and wispy clouds gave its solitary brown/green continent a sobering resemblance to Corneria.

"F…Fox?" Slippy's voice broke, and the vulpine merc could see his old friend trembling. "The… the sensor analysis on the… atmosphere. They used a… Purger." The tension and anger on the bridge immediately thickened to the point it could be cut with a knife. The doomsday weapon was one of Andross' last-ditch efforts at breaking the Cornerian war effort.

Comprised of a series of nerve agents which would remain active for months and mixed with a few particularly nasty biotoxins created in Venomian labs, the Purger missile was designed to poison an entire planet, destroying all life and making it uninhabitable for several months afterward. The Venomian plan was to kill off the populations of Corneria and Aquas, then establish colonies after they had won the war.

"That can't be!" Peppy growled. "They destroyed all of those damned things after we killed Andross! We had his personal records, and _every single one_ was accounted for!" The hare turned back to his naviconsole. "We all know that the Remnant was trying to cover up something big. They killed off an entire _race_ to protect a secret, by the Creator!"

Fox took a deep breath before returning to the sensor readout. They were alone in the system. Other than the scattered wrecks of what looked to be outdated personal luxury shuttles there wasn't any signs of ship activity around the doomed planet. This was why he said yes when Peppy asked him to drop out of the Academy and pursue a career as a merc. He wanted to prevent anyone else from feeling how he did when Andross killed his mother and his father. That they let a weapon like this escape notice was sickening… or was the Remnant still capable of manufacturing them? Either way the Cornerian authorities needed to know.

He switched the mic back on, a status bar on his notebook's screen informing him there was still a connection back to the CDI outpost. "_Great Fox_ reporting in. Cerinia was hit with a Purger. Lifesign scans are still running but I doubt we're going to find anything here. Send in the _Integrity_, over."

"Acknowledged. I hope those poor souls find some peace." The voice at the other end sounded as distraught as Fox felt. "Sending in the _Integrity_ after some final systems on the receiving Gate. They'll be on route in twenty minutes. Gate Control, out."

The bridge was silent for a few moments, broken only by the hiss of the door mechanism. The two CDI scientists strode in with nearly military precision, their eyes taking in the scene in front of them. "I am sorry for the delay, Captain McCloud." Yuri gestured towards Cerinia. "Did you make any progress?"

"I wish we didn't." Fox grimaced. "The Remnant managed to find and use a damned Purger on Cerinia. The most likely case is that every living being on the planet was killed within a few hours.

"_Chort Vozmi!_" Ivan gasped, breaking his stony façade for a moment. "Damned imperialist aggressors. They were trying to cover up something big. We might be able to find some records…"

"I got something, Fox!" Slippy shouted, stabbing a finger towards his terminal's display. "I'm picking up a few recent ion trails going to and from the planet, probably a week old at the most. There also seems to be a small source of power emissions on the southeast portion of the planet." The frog paused for a moment, his technical wizardry and vast knowledge of starships coming into play. "Ion trails are likely from a Venomian transport craft of some sort, so they might be Remnant."

Fox glanced to the two CDI scientists. "If you were about to say something about records, that's where they'll likely be. You said you wanted to test out your new toys in combat conditions?" As they nodded the merc gave them a smirk. "Sounds like you're going to get more than you bargained for."

**Notes: Yep, another chapter up this quickly. I seriously didn't expect the reviews to come flowing in as they have been. Some pretty good ideas as well! Thanks for the feedback!**

**Unfortunately, I have to be frank and answer a couple of questions I've been asked by many of my readers. To be completely honest, a few elements I had in this story before the rewrite won't be making it in. Namely, these are Brian's Marine squadmates as well as the Black Ops team that was covertly stationed on Cerinia before its destruction. The reasons for this are twofold. Looking from a plot standpoint and not posting major spoilers to future events in this story, the additional characters simply won't fit. From a writing standpoint, throwing in about twenty to thirty other characters(the Black Ops team, the Cerinians they rescued, etc) would require a third story arc which would be very difficult to work around. That was a painful decision for me to do as there was a very positive reception when I wrote it; cutting out some of the elements that complicated the plot and resulted in major stumbling blocks was difficult, but has also allowed me to update every few weeks or so compared to the once every several months that was my par for the course before the rewrite.**

**However, I still contend the Black Ops subplot would make for a decent standalone story. Think, say, a Special Forces team similar to SG-1 from the Stargate mythos finding itself on Cerinia and finding out a way to save it from cataclysm. Since I can't use that idea it's only fair for me to make a writing prompt out of it and see if anyone wants to pursue a story along those lines.**

**Hopefully this news isn't going to upset anyone. I value everyone's opinions and reader suggestions have fueled several major plot points in this story. I simply can't make the other Marines and the Black Ops team work in the rewrite.**

**Please stay tuned, however. I promise to make it up for the omissions with some good, solid, frequent updates. As before, thanks for reading, reviewing, PMing, and comments. They're what make this story possible and gets me off my lazy, Far Cry 3-addicted butt and spend more time hitting other keys than "WASD."**


	21. Chapter 18: Going Down the Fast Way

Chapter 18: Going Down the Fast Way.

The area would be safe enough. Tucked behind the impromptu shelter of a boulder and with the storm raging around them, Brian could finally give his stricken friend the attention she needed. Krystal's still form was propped against the unyielding rock, blood flowing from a ragged hole in her left shoulder. The wound was small, about the diameter of a pencil, but its placement was serious.

He was no doctor, but his mother was an ER nurse at St. Vincent and he had gone through the requisite courses on combat first aid during boot. A high-velocity rifle round like the 5.45x39mm he was certain she was shot with tended to deal two distinct types of damage. Tissue damage and shattered bones from the bullet's path through the body was only one danger. A temporary cavity dealt by the energy dump of the round was another; considering the closeness of the wound to her heart that was a serious concern.

Getting her bleeding under control was his first priority. The Marine opened a small pouch at his side, grateful at whoever was in charge of their personal equipment loadout having the foresight of actually providing the materials that would save her life. His cold-numbed hands grabbed two packets of quick-clot. They were gauze pads which were coated in an enzyme which promoted coagulation; the packets were proven to stop blood loss from massive wounds. The USMC had been including them as part of their standard combat first aid kit for the past several months; the decision to do so had saved more than a few lives.

He pressed a patch against the front of her shoulder, noting with a tiny bit of relief that the bullet passed through her body cleanly. Another patch on the exit wound stemmed off the bleeding, helped by a generous wrapping of bandages and a makeshift sling for her arm. Afterwards he checked her pulse; he wasn't sure what was normal for her species but at least her heart was beating. It was slow, but that was to be expected considering her unconsciousness. The Marine also held his ear up to her lips, checking her breathing. It was labored, but she was alive.

There wasn't much more he could do for her. The Marine glanced up to the snow-filled sky and took a deep breath of frozen air, wincing as his ribcage protested his actions. The enemy forces they had been ambushed by were far more effective than the Sharpclaw they had been wading through. They had the advantage of numbers and possibly weapons, and they used sound tactics. If he had a full squad behind him there wouldn't be much of a contest, but with Krystal out of the fight there wasn't much he could do. There was no telling how many they were up against, or if they had reinforcements. The thought was sobering, but he would have to get this Spellstone thing himself then figure out exactly how to punch through back to their ship.

They had pretty much laughed at his M16, but the Marine had a possible equalizer up his sleeve. He unloaded the standard-issue rifle, popping out the pins that held the upper receiver to the lower. The broken-down weapon fit fairly well in his pack, albeit with the rifle's barrel sticking out of it like a radio antenna. He followed suit with Krystal's M4. The partially field-stripped rifles didn't weigh any less that way, but the reduction in bulk would make it easier to carry her to safety. Afterwards he attached his tactical sling to his M14, popping out its magazine and replacing it with what he hoped to be his ace in the hole.

As the squad designated marksman, he made sure to carry along an added surprise just in case they came across insurgents wearing body armor or protected by light vehicles. The two magazines of black-tipped armor-piercers weren't nearly as accurate as the match ammunition he normally carried, but the AP rounds would be better medicine against the AK-toting badasses. He removed the rifle's scope, a variable-power Unertl he had purchased while on leave, and slid it into its carrying case. He would need iron sights for working up close.

Letting the rifle dangle from its sling, he stooped over to pick up Krystal. Only then did he notice the bloodstains all over his armor and her flightsuit. If he had a chance he'd make them pay for hurting her, though his first priority right now was survival. He slid the unconscious Cerinian over his shoulders and headed back out into the snowstorm.

* * *

A dim glow filled her senses, pushing beyond the dull sensation of pain and the numbing cold that had spread throughout her body. Was she dead? Was she dying? Krystal's questions went unanswered as she simply floated. There was no perception of time passing, only the glow which rapidly got brighter.

As if someone had flipped a switch her senses returned to her. Panic filled her mind as she tried to move her arms and legs, stiff metal bands binding her limbs to a cold stone slab beneath her. What was going on? Why was she here? Another, more confusing thought crossed her mind. Where was her mother, her father?

"Please! Let me go!" Her voice cried out of its own accord in her native Cerinian, yet it sounded much younger, much higher-pitched than she remembered. Another involuntary action was taken, her head rising from the table to glance around. There wasn't much to see other than stone columns flickering in the dim torchlight; the bluish-gray hue suggesting she was in one of the High Temples. That wasn't possible.

Her body wasn't her own; replaced with that of a child. Devoid of any of the markings on her arms denoting her position as a Guardian, she was dressed in the same expensive, flowing sage green robes she commonly wore as a young kit. A realization crossed her mind. _'This is a memory from my childhood! My father would never have stood for this!'_

"Is the collection jewel ready?" A voice stopped her thoughts for a moment as its speaker, another Cerinian dressed in the ornately decorated robes of an Elder, entered her peripheral vision. He cast a glance at the bound vixen, casting a soft frown at her. "Do not be afraid, little one. You will not remember any of this." His words didn't inspire confidence, and instead Krystal's involuntary struggles against her bonds continued.

"It is, my Elder." A feminine voice answered, its owner instantly recognized. High Priestess Generia, one of her family's most trusted advisors. She had something to do with this? "Has this ever been attempted on one so young?"

"No." the Elder reached for something out of her line of sight, his hands returning with a kokli ball-sized prism filled with an ethereal orange glow. She immediately shrunk from the object, a wave of fear and revulsion filling her heart. "I say this with a heavy heart, but the Beacon must be maintained and the cause of death of its previous Vessel must be determined."

"This is the first I've heard of this Beacon." Generia growled. "This child is a Potential for the Grand Council. The Elders cannot simply use her as a plaything! Your will must be followed, but I demand an explanation!"

"You are not in the position to demand anything, Priestess." The Elder sighed and shook his head. "However, you must ensure the protection of this child no matter what happens. Only a Channeler can access the powers of the Beacon. She will serve as a conduit if the need ever arises; a living connection to the Prime World."

"That is simply a myth!" the Priestess retaliated. "There is no evidence to indicate the Prime World even exists, let alone a way to..."

"We have visited the Prime World hundreds of years ago, Priestess." The Elder set the prism next to Krystal's face, her only reaction to recoil from it as far as her bonds allowed, which wasn't very far. A lingering, alien _presence_ seemed to curl at the tendrils of her thoughts, tearing her concentration from the Elder's voice. It didn't stop until he moved the device away, his words fading back into her consciousness. "...haven for our kind in case of a disaster."

"And the Haleths agreed to this?" There was a hint of resignation in her voice.

"There was no choice in the matter, Priestess." The Elder reached over and grasped Krystal's muzzle, turning her head towards him as he continued. "The Beacon cannot be contained outside of a Channeler for more than a few days, and she was the closest to Narten when he was killed." His other hand was holding a glass vial full of a viscous liquid, lifting it to her lips. When she struggled to shut her mouth the Elder responded, prying her muzzle open with strong fingers. Before she had a chance to resist the foul-tasting, syrupy substance washed over her tongue.

Those same fingers clamped her muzzle shut before she could spit it back at him, the concoction burning her throat as she was forced to swallow the liquid. Almost immediately her head swam and her body felt heavy; an experience which evoked fear in both the child experiencing the brutal memory and the adult Guardian which had undergone a very similar experience with the stasis pod a few days before. Her head fell back against the stone slab she was bound to, helpless against what happened next.

The Elder once again wielded the ethereal prism, its energies returning to drown out her mind. The glow consumed her vision as the Elder drove the object into her heart. The last thing Krystal felt was a freezing pain spread into her chest; the last thing she heard was her young voice screaming in agony.

* * *

The blizzard conditions tapered off after an indeterminable amount of time. The cold had numbed Brian to the bone, but he had kept on going. There was no choice but to press on. He was tired, hungry, beset with a stabbing pain in his ribs if he even took a deep breath, and carrying an unconscious vixen was taking its toll. As long as he put more distance between them and their new enemies they would be relatively safe, or so he hoped.

The path ended at another one of those impossibly tall rock walls, a series of boards over the mouth of a small tunnel blocking any further progress. He wasted no time, setting his wounded friend down and gingerly propping her against the granite backdrop before smashing the planks in with his boot. They eventually yielded under his assault, yet at the cost of alerting the tunnel's occupants.

The two Sharpclaw within were already making their way towards the Marine, wielding nasty-looking maces. Brian didn't back down, his hand snatching Krystal's M9 from his waistband. The Beretta cracked several times, driving the angry Saurians to the ground in a hail of gunfire. He cursed under his breath; if the Lylatians who were after them were within earshot he just rang the dinner bell. The Marine scooped up his fallen friend and pressed on, making his way into the short tunnel and stepping over the bodies of the Sharpclaw he had just shot.

The tunnel opened up into a small cavern, one half containing a few sleeping bags and a roaring fire. Apparently he had just invaded a guard outpost. The fire was a welcome addition, and it was prudent to check on Krystal's welfare while he warmed up a bit. He slid the unconscious vixen onto one of the sleeping bags, placing a hand on the side of her neck to check her pulse. It had steadied since last time, and her breathing had also become more regular. She was doing about as well as could be expected.

The reprieve was short-lived. The harsh whine of some sort of electrical motor echoed into the tunnel, causing the Marine to glance up. His blood ran cold as he beheld the obsidian object hovering a mere foot off the ground; its appearance was that of a saucer-shaped disk about two feet in diameter, supporting a very nasty-looking tower festooned with a few nastier-looking protrusions which were obviously weapons. One of them crackled with sparks of electricity as it advanced towards him.

"Jesus!" the Marine spat, jumping up to his feet. The protrusion shot out at him, narrowly missing his arm; the sickening tingle of an electric shock still managing to pulse through his nervous system. Instinctively he kicked out at the device with all the strength he could muster; other than a hollow _bong_ there was no discernible effect.

The hovering object went in for the kill, the crackling probe scraping across the Marine's side. Even through his armor the pain was enough to drop him to the ground, a shout escaping his lips as he tried to evade the artificial attacker. Despite the agony coursing through his body his hands filled themselves with his pistols; there was no room to bring his rifle to bear. Firing a pistol in each hand wasn't usually an effective tactic, but he had no choice.

Before the device struck back, he fired. The Beretta and Colt roared into the enclosed space, creating a deafening cacophony of gunfire as he emptied the magazines into the hovering menace. Most of his hits were solid ones, smashing dents into its glistening black shell and forcing the machine back far enough to give Brian a reprieve.

He used that moment to drop the empty handguns and switch to his rifle. With precious few AP rounds he had to make his hits count. The M14 snapped into his shoulder as he fired several times, the machine emitting a harsh whine as it collided with the floor. After a tense moment he was pretty sure it was destroyed, but that meant the bastards were already after them. After replacing the magazines on both his pistols he picked Krystal back up, uttering a quick prayer of thanks she hadn't been harmed.

"Damn robots." As he passed the destroyed construct a strange thought came to mind. When he was a teenager he spent much of his free time playing computer games in his dad's office; mostly the gory shooters his old man kept buying despite his mom's protests. One of them was called Rise of the Triad; among its more nasty foes were robots that took an incredible amount of punishment to bring down. One of them was called the NME; an apt name for the damn thing that had just zapped him.

The tired, angry Marine tread further into the cavern, a groan uttered to the cold, still air at what awaited him. "You have _got_ to be fucking kidding." In lieu of an entrance to the mine complex, a solitary hoverbike sat pointed at the exit to what looked to be the exact same channel they spotted before being ambushed by the armored, AK-toting assholes. The channel was currently being used to deliver large boulders to God knew where.

Brian had to somehow figure out how to keep Krystal's unconscious form on the bike, which didn't seem possible. He wasn't going to leave her behind for those bastards, but this wasn't the place to get involved in a firefight. Frankly, he was hoping he could lead them into some Sharpclaw and let them at each other. Even if the club-wielding Saurians would get their asses kicked, it would distract them long enough to get some good shots in.

An idea came to mind. The notion was desperate and crazy, but it was all he had. As gently as he could he set his friend down on the seat, trying to ensure some measure of comfort. Afterwards he slipped his pack off his back, adjusting its shoulder straps as far as they would go before slipping it onto her. Finally he slid onto the hoverbike's seat, squeezing into the straps himself. It was an incredibly tight fit yet the backpack served to secure the unconscious Cerinian to his body as best he could. Her head fell on his shoulder, the faint sound of her drawing breath ensuring him she was still alive. "Sorry for doing this, but it's the only way."

The bike worked in the exact same manner as the one he used on that mountain; he punched the throttle and it took off with enough power to equal the crotch rockets some of his squadmates had back in San Diego. The backpack trick kept Krystal tucked against him as he powered the vehicle out of the tunnel and into the culvert. The bike's speedometer steadily climbed, the wind buffeting his face causing him to squint his eyes to see.

He whipped the bike past a careening boulder, the Marine's white-knuckle grip barely keeping it in control. Within seconds the bridge they had crossed earlier came into view, his gaze spotting one of the armored figures standing atop it. The enemy combatant tried to snap their AK clone to their shoulder but the bike was far too fast; by the time the merc had tried to get a decent sight picture the bike had already screamed under the bridge at full throttle.

"Fuck!" Brian hissed into the wind as he coaxed as much speed out of the bike as he could. They had been spotted. The hoverbike's engines whined and rumbled beneath him as the vehicle shot into another, much larger tunnel. The wooden supports zipping by like fenceposts convinced him they were finally in the mine complex itself. The tunnel zig-zagged randomly, Brian giving the bike as much juice as he dared as he sped through the complex. They needed to get as much distance between them and the armored badasses as possible.

The tunnel ended after a blind corner, culminating on some sort of walkway over a small cavern filled with machinery. He stomped on the brakes but was far too late; the bike slammed into the walkway's rail at significant speed. With the combined weight of Krystal and their gear he was pitched from the bike, a short fall broken by a rumbling conveyor belt underneath.

"Oh, _shit!_" His cry was prompted by the flaming jets shooting across the conveyor belt only several feet away. That was something they wouldn't survive. The Marine reached out and grabbed a support rail at the edge of the belt, struggling to pull himself off of the deathtrap. He collapsed in a heap, Krystal's forehead smacking into the side of his face as he did so. Suppressing a cry of pain his battered body struggled to get to its feet, sliding out of the backpack as he did so.

The universe was out to get him that day. Two Sharpclaw had heard the accident and were rushing towards him, mace and halberd ready to eviscerate the young soldier where he stood. There was no time to draw a pistol and shoot, so he had to opt for his rifle. The wood furniture of his M14 was brought up to block the incoming mace, the weapon leaving a couple of gouges in its wooden stock. Brian lined up his combat boot and slammed it into the Sharpclaw's crotch, hoping the Saurian had that particular weak spot.

By the lizardman's screech of pain and its next action of collapsing into a ball on the ground, he had been right. The Sharpclaw's buddy tried for a clumsy stab at Brian's chest, which was sidestepped as he slammed the rifle's stock into his muzzle. The heavy weapon made for a decent club if push came to shove, which was punctuated by the sound of bones cracking and the thump the Saurian made as he joined his slightly more fortunate buddy on the floor.

He was tempted to leave them there, but with Krystal defenseless he couldn't take any chances. He let the M14 dangle on its sling and pulled out the Beretta, giving both Sharpclaw a coup de grace shot. A wave of revulsion rippled through him after he shoved the pistol back into his belt. He had killed before. Taliban fighters, Iraqi insurgents and Sharpclaw had fallen before him, but killing in cold blood like that gave him the creeps. A voice in his mind rationalized it as survival, but he had to force it aside.

Brian returned to Krystal's side, checking the vixen over more thoroughly than he had been able to before. His bandage job was holding and her vials were stable; quite surprising considering the hell he had just dragged her through. Frankly, he felt bad for having to do this to her; she was a friend and ally, not a sack of potatoes. With a sigh he readjusted his backpack and slid it back on, picking her up afterwards. He would find a way to make this up to her, somehow.

* * *

Her vision cleared up once more, yet the fuzziness gave a dreamlike quality to the whole scene. Sunlight filtered in through the leaves of trees; not the spindly ones which grew on Sauria but the substantial, towering giants of the forests of Cerinia. A pang of homesickness stabbed into her heart at the sight, yet she was drawn to it like a moth to flame.

Emotions of contentment and happiness filled her mind as sensations of another body which was not hers took over her senses. As her vision moved lower she was once again reminded of the fact she was but an observer in someone else's body, just like the ordeal she had gone through with what may or may not have been her younger self. This was all confusing.

A flush of embarrassment came when she saw the scene; the flat, white and blue-patterned fur of a male's bare chest greeted her sight. She was in the mind of a male Cerinian for some reason, and the warm, comforting presence tucked in beside him was no longer being ignored. Lips caressed her neck, the sensations so vivid and confusing it gave her chills.

The vision moved lower and to the left, a small, white star-shaped pattern embedded right over the man's heart. That was intimately familiar; unbeknownst to anyone except her parents she had an identical marking. What did it mean? Was she sharing someone's memories?

"What bothers you, Narten?" A female's voice, low and hushed, spoke directly into her ear. "You leave for your Trials in three days; afterwards we won't have to hide anymore." Her involuntary gaze fell on the female tucked in beside him; the lack of any clothing on either of them was very telling as to what had been going on. The embarrassment skyrocketed as the strange sensations tried to flood her thoughts. Krystal tried to force herself out of this stranger's mind yet to no avail; it was like she was trapped there.

"The dreams, Vianna." The voice she felt herself speaking was unquestionably male, yet it was as if it was her own at the same time. "They've returned. The strange monkey-men, the pain, suffering, war… I don't even know if it is real or not." She turned towards the sky, giving a sigh as she did so. "I'm afraid to tell anyone, lest they think I have gone mad and will bar me from becoming a Guardian.

This definitely wasn't herself. She was _already_ a Guardian. Likely the last one to ever serve Cerinia. Yet, the emotions of fear and doubt circled around her heart, even though on some level she understood they weren't hers. The conflict continued as the other vixen placed a hand on her muzzle, guiding it to her lips. The kiss was fierce and passionate, even as Krystal's embarrassment flooded her unconscious mind. She was witnessing far more of this man's life than she wanted to. The vixen's arms around her, guiding her closer as the kiss ended.

"You are not going mad, my love. I don't feel it within you." Vianna continued, nuzzling against her neck once more. "We still have more time before you leave, and I promise to do anything I can to ensure you will pass your Trials."

"Anything?" Her/his voice answered, yet the far more embarrassing request that crossed Krystal's thoughts went unspoken. Her head exploded with pain, her vision bursting into a white light that caused her to scream uncontrollably. A dull roar echoed all around them, Vianna's terrified voice calling unintelligibly into her ear.

Then as abruptly as it came it vanished. They were not alone. As the man whose body she inhabited struggled to his feet, grabbing the training staff which was resting next to him, a circle nearly a hundred meters in diameter had been burned into the ground. Trees had simply been reduced to twisted, charred stumps; the grass had been burned neatly to the topsoil.

Two figures stood several meters away, one of which was dressed in a strange white coat and light-colored pants. The other was dressed in an odd, dark green uniform under which a blue and white-striped shirt rested. The thoughts from the mind she was inside differed greatly from her own, finally separating the two distinct consciousnesses of Narten and Krystal.

To Narten, the figures were that of the warlike monkey-men which had plagued his dreams. They stood somewhat taller than the Cerinians they had appeared next to. The outsiders were devoid of fur except for the sparse, coarse amount which sprouted on the top of their heads, fair, yet weathered skin covered their entire bodies. They had no tails and the ears which they had were ugly flaps of skin grafted to their heads.

Krystal understood what they were. They were others of Brian's race, yet how? Why? What did this have to do with her? They looked significantly older than her friend, yet the object in the hands of the one with the green dress was also sickeningly familiar. It was the same type of rifle she had been shot with.

"Who are you?" Narten's voice demanded, brandishing the staff. "Why are you here? As a Guardian-potential, I demand you answer me!" The response from the men he accosted, however, was likewise suspicious. The armed man instantly tucked his rifle into his shoulder, shouting in a thick, guttural language which neither Cerinian could interpret. "Lower your weapon, now!"

As the Guardian trainee shook his weapon in the air, Krystal could feel a sense of alarm from the human wielding the rifle. The man reacted instantly, the weapon roaring its report into the still air. Krystal once again felt like she had been punched; only this time as she fell back onto the ground numbness took over. Her vision started to fade to black and the screaming of the other vixen softened.

Was this what it was like to die?

* * *

She awoke with a panicked gasp, the numbness of her unconscious dream replaced with excruciating pain. Her entire left side felt as if it had been burned from the inside out; being doubled over on something hard and unyielding wasn't helping matters any. Her head ached as if she had hit it on something, and even though she was now conscious a drained, groggy sensation gripped her senses.

"Krystal?" Brian's voice called out from behind her, though her foggy perception had become aware enough that she was being carried through a roughly-hewn rock tunnel of some sort. He stopped abruptly, carefully sliding her off the side of his shoulder. Even through the pain and her confused, addled senses she could feel the deep level of concern he had for her plight. "You alright?"

She shook her head, choking out a reply as much as her pain-wracked body could allow. "No… hurts. What happened?" Her hand brushed against her staff, noticing that her rifle and pistol were missing. The staff pulsed slightly, a warning that its power reserves had been completely drained.

"You went to engage one of those assholes that ambushed us and wound up getting hit." Brian frowned slightly as she stumbled somewhat, almost losing her footing. In response he gently took her good arm and wound it around his shoulders. "You lost a lot of blood and I regret I don't have anything for the pain." As he spoke he moved forward, helping her along as best he could. "We need to move quickly. They've already sent two NMEs after us."

"Enemies?" That confused her even more. "Aren't they already enemies?" The events she experienced while unconscious swam through her head, yet there wasn't any time to explain it to him.

"Acronym. N. M. E. Nasty Metallic Enforcers. They're killer robots, whatever the hell they are. Decided to name them after… nevermind." The Marine sighed as they pushed forward. "What bugs me is that both of them decided to use some sort of stun gun on me, despite having enough firepower to level a building. Tough bastards, too. One jumped me before I got you into the mines and the other tried to get us as I was freeing one of the Snowhorns locked up here. They caused a cave in and buried it under several tons of rock."

"They might be trying to capture you, but why?" Krystal mused. Thinking of their current situation forced her mind off the disturbing visions and could help them fight the Lylatian mercs who were tracking them. "They're out to kill me, so it doesn't make sense."

"I don't know how many of them we're up against, but I killed at least one of them. Maybe three if we're lucky. The one I confirmed wasn't wearing any armor, and my frag could have taken out the SAW gunner and the one who shot you." He was about to continue yet was abruptly stopped by Krystal squeezing him as tightly as she could with only one arm.

"The one who shot me… she killed my mother." It took all her willpower to keep her voice from breaking. While a Guardian wasn't supposed to think of such petty concepts as revenge it didn't stop her from being thankful Brian had at least repaid them some of the pain she felt.

"Jesus." The Marine spat, his voice growling as he carried on. "I'm going to make these bastards pay. If they're what's standing between us and getting out of this fucking place, I'm going to dust every last one of them." He had no obligations against considering revenge. They had both taken a bullet and the NMEs the bastards sent after him seemed to suggest they wanted him alive and her dead. It didn't matter to him that they had Kalashnikovs and killer robots. Payback was going to be a bitch.

The tunnel reached its endpoint, merging into a circular ramp which wound down into a large storage area of some kind. Krystal was about to reply to Brian yet the presence of a light-colored Snowhorn stopped her. "I know you can't understand me, but I'm glad you made it. Your Cerinian friend looks better, also."

"I speak your language." The vixen replied. "Who are you, and what is going on here?" Using Brian as a crutch she slowly made her way to the Snowhorn, a curious expression on her features.

"I am Belina Te, daughter of Garunda Te, the Gatekeeper for the Snowhorn Tribe." She turned her attention to Krystal, giving a slight frown at her condition. "You have suffered much coming here, but I must thank you and your friend for your aid. He freed me from the prison cell the Sharpclaw forced me into."

Krystal wasn't sure if she should tell her what her father had mentioned, that he considered her giving up the Spellstone's location to the Sharpclaw a betrayal. Yet she could at least explain why they were here. "We are here for the Spellstone, Belina. Do you know where it is?"

Brian stood there for a moment, witnessing the exchange between Krystal and the Snowhorn he had sprung from the lizards' prison. He couldn't speak their language, but his companion's frightened tone gave away the fact she had come into some information she didn't want to hear. After they finished he turned to her, confusion and concern apparent on his face. "What's going on?"

"Belina told me where the Spellstone is." She took a deep breath and tilted her head towards the only exit out of the chamber; a short tunnel leading into what he could see was a massive cavern beyond. "It's being guarded by a legendary beast called the Galdon. Even the Sharpclaw are afraid to come near it. We will have to defeat it in order to obtain the Spellstone."

"This gets better and better, doesn't it?" Brian quipped. "We've got some beast thing ahead of us and a force of pissed off, AK-toting killers behind us. Being caught between a rock and a hard place sounds pretty apt to me."

"We've made it this far, Brian." Krystal leaned in somewhat closer, trying to push the pain from her mind. "Furthermore, we've made it together. We can do this. We're still alive." Offering a tired sigh to the air, she settled her head upon his shoulder. "How can we get past this?"

The Marine offered no resistance to her actions, his mental resolve wavering due to the twin forces of exhaustion and pain. "We ambush their sorry asses like they did us. Set up a position where their weapons aren't as effective as ours are." His thoughts were conflicted. Despite what he told her earlier Krystal's presence was comforting. Her cautious optimism and willingness to help those in need reminded him of the ideals he had lost. "I'm going to make damn well sure we have the upper hand this time."

The two took a longer look into the cavern they were about to enter, an understanding sigh echoing from their lips as they took the lay of the land. Several open pits of magma dotted the floor of the cavern, casting an orange glow over the whole area. The heat could easily be seen, manifesting itself as a thick, hazy mirage everywhere they looked. Even from the distance the thick scent of sulfur and soot was barely tolerable. "It's not safe in there." Brian admitted. "It's pretty much like that lava pit we had to park your ship at. It's not as dangerous as that, but it's not far from it either. Plus, those giant mushrooms over there don't exactly look groovy."

The vixen lifted her head from his shoulder enough to give her human ally a quizzical glance. Her senses were far from recovered, most of her concentration given to fighting the burning pain coming from her shoulder. She decided to ask him. "We'll be using the breathing gear again?" As she said that she offered a pained grimace; to say it was not a pleasant day would have been a major understatement.

"Afraid so." The Marine huffed, reaching for the pouch holding his gas mask. "Makes me wonder how the hell these Snowhorn tolerate it here." For the second time he removed his helmet and slipped his mask on, motioning for Krystal to do the same. That took a moment; the fact she was down to one usable arm made getting her own mask on significantly more difficult. Brian helped her as best he could, adjusting the straps that held the device to her face.

The two then emerged into the massive cavern system, only then realizing its full scope. The roof stretched at least four hundred feet overhead, supported by several pillars of stone nearly four meters in diameter. A network of catwalks connected them; it was hard to determine how heavily defended they were but Sharpclaw were seen milling around.

"Guess it's time to earn our keep." Brian mused, popping the magazine of armor-piercing rounds out of his M14, racking the bolt to reclaim the round in the chamber. After putting the nearly empty mag back into its pouch, he opted for his usual match load. "Before we do this I need to know how you're feeling."

Between the thick mask over her muzzle and the pain of her wounds, she had to struggle to speak loud enough to be heard. "I'm in great pain, Brian. I feel a little cold and shaky, and it might be best if I stuck as close to you as I can. I'm sorry. I'm starting to feel like a burden." She silently chided herself for the outburst of anger that led to her current state. She should have been more careful. Instead, she let her rage get the better of her and it nearly killed her.

"Quit it." Brian's muffled words cut the toxic air like a knife. "You're not being a burden. We've got a mission to complete and you're pulling your weight just fine. You're still in this fight even after taking a bullet. Wanna know a secret?" His eyes fell to hers. Despite the bulk of the mask hiding her features, the expectant look in her emerald eyes gave him her answer. "Back when I was in Afghanistan, we had this machine gunner. Corporal Weir, I think his name was. Tough as nails. He was the one pushing everyone to be hard, to quit complaining and man up about everything. 'Just a scratch, suck it up and take it like a man,' he'd always say. Basically, six foot three and two hundred fifty pounds of macho right there."

"We got ambushed on a patrol. Taliban fighters had us dead to rights. We got air support to hit them hard, but not before Weir took a round. He fell to the ground screaming like he got his leg blown off. Dude was crying like a baby until we got him on the medivac chopper." He couldn't hold a straight face as he finished the story, the words rolling out in a laugh. "He got hit in the ass. Big tough guy like him blubbering like a kid with a scraped knee. He never lived it down. I hope the unit he got transferred to never catches wind of that tale."

That was enough to elicit a giggle from the wounded vixen. Her spirits needed a boost. "Really. You're still walking around like this, Krystal. You've got more stones than most Marines I know. You're doing just fine. Just keep a hold of me and follow my lead. Once we get out of here, we'll figure out a way to fix you up. Scout's honor."

"Were you ever a scout?" Her reply barely reached his ears. In Cerinian society, a scout was one who stayed ahead of the nomadic trade caravans, keeping eyes, ears, and senses open for bandits or dangerous wildlife. Brian somewhat fit that mold; his experience as a soldier would have made him a decent one.

"Only for a couple years when I was a kid. Still have a couple of my merit badges back home, though." She cast a confused glance at her friend yet decided not to press further; they needed to move forward. At least there was no sign of this Galdon beast. That would make their fight much easier. As Brian started to move forward she kept her hand on his shoulder to support her shaking, exhausted, battered body. This allowed him to keep his hands free, which balanced the wood-furnished rifle he had decided to use. She idly wondered why he had put the others away, and why he decided to rely on the older-looking, bulky weapon.

There was good reason for that, fueled by stories his uncle told him years ago about fighting in the jungles of Vietnam. He had stubbornly clung to the older M14 when the Army passed out the then-new M16; his praises for the weapon caused Brian to pick one up as soon as he found a suitable one. Usually the role of a designated marksman didn't fall on the squad's NCO, but he preferred the heavier firepower and long range accuracy.

The M14 suited the open, vast terrain of the cavern perfectly. Two Sharpclaw stood guard at the edge of a ramp winding up one of the vast pillars a fair distance away. A quick estimate in his head gave him a rough estimate of about a hundred yards, give or take. The two Saurians were staring at them, patting their clubs and simply daring them to come closer. Brian didn't need to.

The Marine swung the sights onto the closest Sharpclaw and stroked the trigger. The sharp report startled Krystal, who nearly jumped at the gunshot. Fractions of a second later his aim shifted slightly and the big rifle bellowed out another report. The two Sharpclaw crumpled to the ground, giving them an opening. "We've gotta get up there, make sure we've got the high ground before they make it down here!"

Krystal was about to reply yet a faint rattling noise caught her attention. "What was that?" Her question caused Brian to stop in his tracks, letting his rifle go before wrapping his hand around hers. The staccato rattling carried on, echoing like distant thunder.

"Shit! That was gunfire." Brian growled. "Someone's blasting away on full-auto. Might be those asshats running into some lizards I gave the slip to earlier. We don't have time to screw around here. I hope you know what a piggyback ride is, because you're about to get one."

Without any preamble she found herself scooped up in his arms, struggling to hold onto his shoulders with her remaining useful arm. The jostling aggravated her wound somewhat, the vixen gritting her teeth to stifle a yelp of pain. "Hold on as tight as you can!" The Marine called out, rushing out onto the ramp as quickly as he could.

The forces arrayed against them didn't give up, however. Several large wooden barrels cascaded down the ramp, nearly smashing into them. Krystal's cry of surprise melded with Brian's muttered curse as he bolted forward, concentration focused on only one thing: survival.

"Enough with this Donkey Kong bullshit!" he yelled, pulling her legs out of the way of another careening barrel. To add to his stress there were no guardrails to prevent them getting knocked over the edge. How the barrels managed to stay mostly on target was beyond him, but it was annoying as Hell.

Despite the screaming pain in his chest and the exhaustion threatening to shut his body down, he made it to the top without getting them bowled over by one of the barrels. He half-expected one of those unusually large Sharpclaw to be waiting for them, raining barrels down on them like a scene from the arcade game he played as a kid. Instead they came face to face with two other Sharpclaw, busily reaching for their rifles as they abandoned the barrel-launching machine they had been manning.

"Don't let go of me!" Krystal's muffled voice reached him as she slipped her arm off her shoulders, travelling to his belt where her borrowed handgun had been resting. Forcing back the pain and residual embarrassment, she pulled the pistol from its resting place and turned it on the Saurian foes. The Beretta snapped back against her hand as she fired, one of the Sharpclaw slipping off the platform they were on and taking a lethal tumble to the stone floor below.

His comrade was quicker, shouldering his rifle and firing before Krystal could turn her attention to him. The report hurt her ears, her hearing barely registering the snapping sound of the bullet sailing mere inches above her head. With speed born from adrenaline and sheer fear she pointed her handgun at his chest and fired several times, sending the Sharpclaw to the wooden planks he had been standing on. Her amplified, hollow-sounding breath rasped in her ears, giving an alien, unnatural quality to the entire scene.

"You did good, Krys." Even though he had been shot at on a pretty consistent basis, facing down the barrel of a gun was an experience he never relished. "They likely heard our little exchange, so we need to find a good fire position and set up." He pressed on, eyes scanning the area for a place which would suit their needs. A catwalk stretched ahead of them, leading up to a wooden platform which would provide a decent field of fire over the entrance to the cavern. "That looks good."

Once they arrived he gingerly set her down, propping her up next to the stone pillar. She breathed a sigh of thanks, keeping up a constant effort to force the pain from her mind. "Do you think this will work?" Her question was genuine; did they have a chance against the Lylatians who were out to kill her?

"We've got some cards up our sleeve, at least." Brian was already hard at work, shrugging off his pack before reloading his M14 with his last full magazine of armor-piercers. "Going to put the ARs back together. Leaving one with you and taking the other with me. Do you think you'll be able to cover that approach?" He motioned to the path leading up to their position as he put the other rifles back together. He propped the M4 against the pillar next to her, leaving the majority of his magazines next to the weapon.

Krystal nodded, hefting the Beretta she was still holding onto. "Will I be able to fire it with only one arm?" In response Brian picked it up, tucking the M4's stock into his shoulder, bringing it up without using his left hand for support.

"Yeah. Don't count on pinpoint accuracy, but if you can keep their heads down I can sweep in and take care of them. He grinned; a useless gesture through the gas mask. He wasn't sure how long he would be combat effective in these conditions, but he held out hope being far above the ground would keep him from passing out with CO2 poisoning.

He turned to set up a position overlooking the cavern entrance. Yet, before he could move Krystal's hand reached out to grasp his. "Please. Be careful." Her eyes fell upon his, a great amount of concern conveyed with her emerald gaze.

"I will be. I've got you here to watch my back." He let go, giving her a nod which she returned. There was really nothing left to do but wait until the mysterious Lylatian killers came to try to get them. This time he would be more than ready, the thought crossing his mind as he reattached the scope to his M14.

The Marine laid down on the platform, glancing through the rifle's scope and letting its crosshairs settle upon the cavern entrance. He wasn't sure how long it would take the armored, gun-toting cowboys to show up, but somehow he just knew they would. And, when they did, he would teach them one of the most sacred mantras of the Corps.

They would find out exactly why a Marine and his rifle were the masters of their enemy.

* * *

** Wow. At nearly 7900 words, this is one of the longest chapters I've put out in a while. I'd like to give out major thanks to my friend JyrFalcon345 for beta reading sections of this and giving me some good ideas. I really appreciate the recent interest in this story, and am amazed by the number of reviews and readership coming in. Nearly 500 separate visitors this month alone. I'm amazed and grateful.**

** Lots of decent music fueled me getting this chapter out as quickly as I did. The chapter title comes from a piece of music from the Rise of the Triad video game Brian touches upon earlier in the chapter. The game's soundtrack(albeit it being older MIDI synthesizer tunes from 1994-1995) is still a must-listen for fans of game music. For something more modern, the ending credits tune(Further, track 17 for those who have picked up the soundtrack) from Far Cry 3 seems to have become a more or less unofficial theme for Krystal during the events in this story. There's other tracks as well, but I don't exactly lend myself that well to building soundtracks. I'm always taking suggestions, however.**

** Posting this chapter puts this into the 100K+ word range, or about the average length for most novels. I'm definitely not done yet. Once again, thanks for sticking with this beast for this long. Anyone who has read up to this point definitely has my appreciation and gratitude.**

** Stay tuned, as the next chapter's going to be far more action than exposition.**


	22. Chapter 19: Desperate Measures

Chapter 19: Desperate Measures.

Despite the temperatures approaching 35C, Violetta Dragen was quite comfortable within the air-conditioned confines of her armor. The nearly ten year old Venomian Eradicator-class power armor was still some of the most advanced which had ever been fielded during the war and handily outclassed all but the most advanced prototypes to come out of Cornerian defense contractors.

The Eradicators were heavy assault troops meant to board capital ships. EVA capabilities and heavy damage resistance was already built into the armor, as well as a miniaturized sensor package normally mounted on starfighters. Eradicators were amongst some of the most feared infantry units Andross fielded during the war, and Dragen was one of a select few who had survived the war and the previous eight years fighting as a mercenary.

The onboard diagnostic software was giving out some very interesting readings as they descended into the mines. The air had become increasingly toxic; volcanic gasses and carbon dioxide were present in dangerous quantities as they entered what the armor's internal mapping system indicated as the lowest level of the complex.

Resistance had been quite light, sporadic challenges by the native Saurian soldiers were quashed very quickly by projectile rifle fire. Dragen carried the heavier HPR-74 variant which was intended to be used as a squad support weapon. Compared to the plasma rifles, rocket launchers and scaled-down laser cannons the armor had been designed to effectively field, using the rifle was child's play. The significant recoil on automatic fire was practically nonexistent.

"Looks like we've got CO2 levels of twelve percent down here. Switch to internal oxygen supplies." Kale Duesett advised, scanning the area with his personal LP-37 blaster pistol. The heavy PMR-3 sniper rifle he had been using earlier was slung upon his back.

Their team medic, a slender chameleon by the name of Tet Rudar chimed in. "At these levels they're looking at maybe fifteen minutes before passing out. Death in twenty or thirty." He paused for a moment, flanked by the remaining member of the team: Kalina Marsen. "We could simply wait them out. I didn't see any environmental armor or breathing gear. We take our time and let them come to us or die."

"Not good enough for me." Violetta's voice growled, the speakers on her helmet distorting the phrase into a robotic tone. Despite its artificial nature, the words were positively dripping with malice. "I want that alien taken alive."

"That's not our objective here, Dragen." Marsen huffed. "We need to make sure that blue bitch is dead. If that bastard gets in the way, I'm dusting it like anyone else. I'm not risking any more lives here. I don't care that it killed your boy-toy…"

Dragen cut her off. "You'd be wise to curb your tongue, vixen. What do you think our client would pay for an alien and its technology? I'll even keep it alive. I'll make it pay for what it did until we drag it in."

"Fine." Marsen spat, gesturing to the open doorway to the mine's main chamber. "If we catch it alive, we will. But don't assume it will be so easy. You didn't get shot by it."

"Neither did you." Dragen pointed out, motioning to the spiderweb of cracks running throughout her armor. "You got shot by the Cerinian instead."

Marsen decided to ignore the slight. "She was using the same type of rifle the alien was, so I'm assuming it armed her. My advice is to not get hit; you all saw what happened to Fetger. Our armor is tough, but we don't know what other tricks it will use against us. So, let's kill this Cerinian and get paid."

A sequence of muted _pops_ distracted everyone's attention. Within milliseconds the networked software within the four mercs' helmets had isolated the noise and provided an analysis. The same message flashed in front of everyone's HUD: _'Projectile weapon discharge, approximate range 450-500 meters.'_

"Somehow I doubt they're succumbing to the CO2 levels down here." Duesett shook his head, replacing his blaster and opting for the sniper rifle. "We may have another long-range engagement on our hands. Anyone willing to draw their fire so I can make this quick and easy?"

"I'll do it." Rudar nodded, hefting his rifle. "Looks like the armor will take at least a few rounds so it'll be relatively safe." With that he sprinted out of the doorway, emerging into the cavern. His armor-augmented senses were put to the test, attempting to figure out where their targets were.

Not immediately seeing anything or getting shot provided a false sense of security. The medic was well aware he was in a compromised position, doubly so if the Cerinian and her alien bodyguard had positioned themselves in the catwalks. Yet, everything was quiet. Duesett's voice echoed into his earpiece. "Got two bodies down there, about a hundred fifty meters from your position. Saurian by the looks of it."

"Could have been them." Rudar replied, grimacing as he spotted the dead Sharpclaw. They had been guarding a spiral ramp which wound around one of the thick support pillars that was hopefully keeping the cavern from caving in onto itself; there were likely thousands of tons of rock above their heads. That meant they likely went into the catwalks to escape the deadly gasses. That also gave them a very good firing position.

"Get under cover. I'm going to see if we can wait them out." The command was met with a protest from Dragen, but Marsen stopped the former Eradicator's attitude quickly enough. They had to settle down for the long haul. Seconds turned into minutes, the former Ranger scanning the veritable web of catwalks which linked the pillars together at multiple levels.

"Contact! Natives!" Rudar called out, snapping his rifle into a firing position. The local Sharpclaw had tired of being shot at and returned fire, the far more primitive projectile weapons belching flame and smoke into the cavern. Rudar's grunt was heard over the comm channel, his armor's integrity rating flashing slightly. His own rifle returned fire, the rattling PR-74 cutting down two natives like wheat before a scythe.

"I'm hit! Nothing serious; armor took it!" Rudar stood up to survey his handiwork, offering a muttered curse to the Sharpclaw. "Can't say the same for them, though."

"Dammit, Rudar!" Duesett growled. "Stay under cover! You're exposed out there! Repeat, get…" He didn't finish the sentence. The back of the chameleon's helmet caved in, bright red blood spraying out of the armored structure as their medic toppled to the ground. The dreaded four beeps echoed in the Ranger's ear as a report from a high-powered rifle echoed off the walls of the cavern.

The software suite tried to compensate for the cavern's echo chamber effect to get a precise location for the shot. Unfortunately it wasn't able to, instead giving three likely candidates for the shooter's position. "Hells take that bastard!" Duesett spat, methodically scanning the areas with his scope.

"How?" Marsen's voice snapped over the comm system. "This armor held up to much more than one shot before!"

"The alien had a larger projectile rifle with a scope on it. That must be what it's using." Duesett snarled. "We're dealing with what has to be military training and experience, and that bastard's just going to sit on that entrance until… wait."

"The drones?" Dragen suggested, her normal, slightly gravelly voice carrying over the channel rather than from the disquieting external speakers she used to mask it. "Overwhelm them with firepower. Cause them to expose themselves."

"That might work." Marsen nodded. "Adjust the sensor arrays to hone in on EM anomalies. If the Cerinian's using her witchcraft we'll be able to find their position. We've got two more. Dragen, you're still controller. Quit using the stun rods and just bring them down."

Dragen was silent as the two combat drones that were holding in a static rear guard position peeled off, repulsor systems whining as they approached the archway. Marsen highly suspected the raccoon was busily cursing her species and parentage from underneath her soundproof helmet, but she really didn't care. They had a job to do.

* * *

The two separate combat drones acted as one, entering the cavern without regard for anything other than the instructions streamed to them through the network links embedded within their cold, durasteel chassis. The machines extended their sensor range, probing for lifesigns and electromagnetic fields. Several creatures were analyzed and detected, the software easily able to differentiate the larger-massed, cold blooded Saurian natives against the two mammalian lifeforms on a platform one hundred meters high and three hundred meters from their current position.

Damage. One of the drones attempted to send instructions to its two blaster cannons, receiving no response. A damage report was obtained in milliseconds and sent to the controlling node, even before the sound of the weapon discharge was detected. Its twin was able to respond, servos shifting the cannons' point of impact onto the platform the attack was detected from. The source was pinpointed to one of the mammalian lifeforms that were detected half a second before. The order to engage was received, initiating the removal of several software blocks and mechanical safeties controlling the weapon systems the drone had at its disposal. Twin crimson beams were projected from the cannon, slamming into the flimsy wooden platform.

A portion of the platform ripped apart, smoldering wood indicated by hot spots on thermal scans. The EM scan started to reveal something as well, faint waves of energy broadcast from one of the lifeforms. The primary target had been found, a marker being placed on its position and broadcast to all friendly sensor systems in the area.

The remaining operational drone continued to push forward, sensors guiding it to the best position to make a more optimal shot. The sensors kept locked onto its targets, regarding any damage the reptilian belligerents could deal to its chassis as minimal. The targets, however, had weaponry capable of piercing the drone's armor with relative ease.

The sensors, however, did keep track of the remaining Sharpclaws' movements. A few attempted to storm the platform the targets were on yet were driven back by weapons fire from them as well as errant shots from the drone itself. Others appeared to be fleeing down a path that didn't appear to be an exit from the mine complex; the mapping radar seemed to indicate a large secondary chamber that didn't lead anywhere. Uncaring and unfeeling, the drone ignored the information to concentrate on its original orders: eliminate its primary and secondary targets.

The drone's sensor suite ceased to operate, along with its weapons. Its main processor board was cracked in half within milliseconds, shutting the unmanned vehicle down without even an error message. Its less disabled counterpart's sensors recorded exactly what had happened; an iron ball launched from a Sharpclaw weapons emplacement stationed near the top of the cavern had smashed through it and exploded, thereby eliminating the mercs' primary advantage against the Cerinian they had marked for death.

* * *

The Saurian stood there, his body shaking with anger at what was happening. The mine complex Scales himself trusted them to guard was already being overrun by the blue-furred one and the strange armored things with the firesticks that never stopped working. Their only advantages were in numbers and the surprise they had waiting for anyone who defied Scales' rightful rule.

"You two! Keep the blue female and her ugly monkey-pet busy!" The Sharpclaw lieutenant growled out to a couple of his underlings, who immediately headed for the ramp leading to their hiding place. They knew better than to question his orders. Strength equaled authority in their society, and that was why they were destined to rule over the scattered, squabbling tribes. The Sharpclaw checked his own firestick; it was loaded. "The rest of you go to holding place. We wake it up!"

The angry Saurians rushed forward, covered by the cannon they put on top of the big cave. They already had success in destroying the moving metal things that followed the armored ones like a pet. They were paying too much attention to the blue one and her pet monkey to notice the several Sharpclaw warriors that ran across the cavern floor.

They reached the bridge over the lava pit which led to the holding area without any battle. That caused some of them to become angry. They wanted to fight. They wanted to kill the strange armored things. They wanted to catch the blue one. They wanted to present her to Scales. Whoever did would be rewarded with a generous rank. Why were they being pushed to the holding area? They could crush the intruders without the Galdon's help.

The lieutenant's shout shook them from their nearly rebellious thoughts. "Quit being lazy! I told you to wake Galdon up! Now do it!"

* * *

The platform was already shaking with their combined weight, several sections blown away by the NME that had been firing on them up until the last few seconds. Help came from the unlikeliest of sources; the Sharpclaw were apparently fighting back against the mercenaries. Brian was busy slinging his M16 on his back and preparing to bug out; he was under no illusions the platform would stay standing for much longer.

Krystal was already struggling to her feet, her unstable stance a testament to the past several days of torture her body had undergone. The vixen could tell she wasn't even fully recovered from waking up from stasis, let alone being nearly killed more than once over the past few days. Brian's presence was a welcome one, the Marine gently taking her rifle from her hand and once again wrapping her arm around his shoulders to carry her.

"I need a vacation." His voice called out in a strange accent, distorted by the mask he wore. His normal tone returned, as if he was making some sort of joke she had no ability to understand. "We're going to cross over to that platform on the other pillar. Can you make it?"

"Yes!" Krystal rasped out, once again forcing back the pain and exhaustion. "The Sharpclaw are running away, but they're not going to an exit!" Her senses stretched out and touched the minds of the retreating Saurians. There was too much distance between them to fully decipher their thoughts, but the nagging urge they were planning something just wouldn't go away.

"Keep tabs on them! We've got bigger fish to fry at the moment!" Brian pushed forward, rushing across the bridge between the pillars with Krystal in tow. He made sure his body shielded her as much as possible from the sniper they most assuredly had below; his armor would hopefully hold for at least one more shot. His concerns turned out to be warranted as the sharp _pop_ of a passing round sailed right behind them, followed by the sharp crack of a rifle. They were still being targeted.

The two made it across the bridge despite another close call with a bullet. The mercs weren't giving up. Neither were they. Brian set her down against the other pillar as gingerly as he could, yet with the adrenaline and urgency of their situation he accidentally tweaked her bad shoulder. The vixen uttered a squeak of pain, which caused him to grimace. "Shit. Sorry."

"It's… okay." Krystal took in a few gulps of canned air before scanning the area once again. As Brian hefted his weapon and went to return to the fray she thrust her good arm out, gripping his bicep with as much strength as she could muster. "Brian! Stay here! The Sharpclaw…"

She didn't have to finish her sentence. The platform rumbled again, yet not from the force of a blaster cannon striking it. Ominous slamming sounds which could only be footsteps reverberated up to them, punctuated by an occasional muted roar. Whatever was making all that noise, it was big and it was _very_ angry_._

* * *

Dragen noticed it first after her attention had been torn from the flight of their targets. Duesett had missed with two shots; the cat's poor marksmanship causing her to growl. Why had their client staffed this job with a bunch of amateurs? She concentrated on controlling the remaining drone, getting it out of the way of the Saurian-operated cannon. A warning warbled in her ears; the lifesign sensors screaming bloody murder at the former Eradicator. Either there had been a hundred Saurians clustered together in stasis within the secondary chamber, or they had some sort of bioweapon at their disposal. Whatever it was, it was heading their way. She shut off the link to the drone, hefting the light machine gun as if it were a toy. "The natives have something big headed this way!"

"What?" Marsen inquired, shaking her head at the sensor feed she brought up. "Impossible. Their technology base is at least a thousand years behind ours. They don't have access to bioweapons!" The rumbling, heavy footsteps that shook the ground suggested otherwise.

"Believe it or not, we've got some huge ugly fucker wandering around out here!" Duesett flattened himself against the wall, hoping to escape notice from the nightmarish creature that had emerged into the cavern. Standing at over fifteen meters tall on four legs, the reptilian horror had a nearly arachnid-like pattern to its movement, skittering along on the cavern floor like a giant spider. It emitted a screech which was thankfully muted by the hearing protection systems in their helmets, raising a head that was about the size of an economy-class hovercar. Its maw was full of sharp teeth, glistening with pale green saliva. For some reason it was adorned with some sort of large jewel which dangled on a heavy chain wrapped around its throat; a sick individual's attempt at giving the beast a necklace.

The most frightening aspect of all was the fact the horrific creature was staring right at the three mercs. It knew they were there. "Why couldn't you have shot that bitch back on Cerinia, vixen?" Dragen snapped, tucking the HPR against her armored shoulder. "I swear,you Cornerians can't shoot worth a damn!" Without giving her comrades a chance to respond she squeezed the trigger. The light machine gun roared its challenge to the creature, the combination of Dragen's strength and the bulk of the Eradicator's armor keeping the weapon far more stable than its original designer could have ever hoped to accomplish.

The torrent of bullets slammed into the Galdon's scaled hide, simply sparking off the beast. The other mercs shook off the initial shock of seeing the beast bore down on them and readied their own weapons, adding to the cacophony of gunfire. Duesett's rifle fared little better against their new opponent, whose angry roar echoed over the battleground.

"Break into the cavern!" Marsen's voice called out over the channel. "Divide its attention! It must have a glass jaw somewhere!" Urgently yet without panic the mercs rushed into the cavern, attempting to flank the creature while driving it back with gunfire. The beast shrieked in response, lashing out with a bedroom-sized foot in an attempt to stomp on Dragen.

The former Eradicator rolled out of the way, her agility enhanced by the bulky armor. The nearly empty magazine in her HPR was ejected after she reached her feet, slamming another large ammo drum into place. The beast roared as it bore down on her, yet the mercenary stood her ground. As it opened its maw she fired, sending a series of tungsten-jacketed slugs quite literally down its throat. The Galdon made a sickening, wet choking noise and halted its attack, choosing instead to cough up a ball of blood-coated bile directly on her.

The power armor's life support system kept the smell out of her nostrils; a stench which one of her targets would later describe as 'about as bad as sticking your head inside a honey wagon.' The powerful digestive acids started attacking the starship-grade armor plating; Dragen's new paintjob was ruined within a few seconds. A corrosion alarm started beeping in her head, drawing her attention to the fact the creature's vomit was potent enough to start eating through her armor. Growling out another curse, she scraped as much of the sticky substance as she could off of her while making an attempt to seek cover. The massive bioweapon wouldn't be much of a pushover, and standing there exposed with the alien sniper still around was a very good way to get killed.

Marsen and Duesett were caught up in a deadly game of cat and mouse with the roaring, enraged creature. The vixen merc dove out of the way of its thrashing feet, tucking into a combat roll before ending up behind its bulk. Practiced eyes spotted a relatively unarmored protrusion at its hind end, capped by a wickedly barbed stinger which glistened with purple, foul-looking venom. She tucked the rifle to her shoulder and fired, the PR74 bucking in her armored gloves as its bullets tore into the building-sized belligerent.

That got the Galdon's attention, voiced by an ear-piercing shriek of agony which threatened to overpower their hearing protection. Marsen winced as the beast made an about-face, sending the merc running for some sort of cover. Something slammed into her armor as she ran, dividing her attention between the monster wishing to eat her as a snack and the collection of Saurian natives using her for target practice. She turned her rifle on the latter, firing a few bursts at the Sharpclaw. The sight of a few lizard-like combatants tumbling to the ground was cause for a grim smile of satisfaction as she cursed her rotten luck.

* * *

Unbeknownst to her, Kalina's luck had actually turned for the better. She was being watched through a standard mil-dot reticule rifle scope, the crosshairs held to account for the angle of the shot and the gravitational drop of a 7.62mm bullet. Brian's finger pressed against his M14's trigger, anticipating a clean break and the death of the merc he was aiming at.

Nothing happened. The trigger didn't snap, nor did the rifle crack and recoil against his shoulder. Biting back a curse the Marine pulled back behind the cover of the stone pillar, hands and eyes checking the rifle for any signs of malfunction. The bolt was wedged open slightly, not quite coming to rest against the breech. He pulled it back, the action grinding and jamming halfway down its length of travel rather than smoothly drawing back. Brian's eyes narrowed as he saw the source of the weapon's malfunction as well as the aftermath of the last shot he took with the rifle.

Using the M14 as an impromptu shield had taken its toll. Over the past few rounds the bolt and extractor became slightly dislodged, not quite returning to battery. The normal match rounds functioned more or less correctly, yet the added forces placed on the action had ensured a catastrophic failure when firing the hotter, heavier AP rounds. As a result most of the brass casing was stuck inside the M14's chamber, its base having ripped completely away. "Son of a bitch!" His outburst caused Krystal to glance up.

"Are you okay?" Her shout struggled to make it the few yards of distance between them. Her heart leapt into her throat; was he injured? He didn't appear to be bleeding and she couldn't sense any pain from him. Frustration, however, greeted her senses like a black cloud.

"This thing's FUBAR, Krys. Looks like we're down to the ARs, now." With a disgusted sigh he forced the M14's magazine out of the rifle before preparing his M16 to take up the slack. The additional firepower was going to be sorely missed. "Not sure how we're going to get out of this one. We've got everyone and their brother after us."

"Just take it one step at a time, Brian!" She had to almost shout her response back to him to overcome the chaotic soundtrack of the raging battlefield around them. "They're busy fighting each other. This gives us a little time to plan!"

"If you've got any suggestions, this would be the time to share them!" His mind struggled to figure out what represented the greater threat. Would the mercs be able to defeat the big, ugly mini Godzilla-spider thing or would it kill them and they would be left to finish it off? The Sharpclaw were also a serious threat and their cannon needed to be taken out.

The Cerinian nodded at him. "The Sharpclaw, first. They aren't our most dangerous opponent, but that cannon and their numbers can easily overwhelm—look out! They're coming!" Her mind touched those of the two Saurians sent to fight them; with all the anger, fear, suppressed grief and bloodlust swarming her clouded, strained senses from so many other minds, it was getting difficult to pinpoint separate enemies amongst the chaos.

"Where? I can't see the sons of—" The rifle's report was barely louder than the din of battle. What Brian noticed instead was the sensation of having a red-hot poker shoved into his side and twisted around for good measure. The Marine uttered a pained groan as he slid to the deck, a hand brushing against where he had most likely taken a bullet. His eyes were greeted with the sight of a blood-covered palm. "Fuck, I'm hit!"

Krystal had little time to react as her blood ran cold, fear and adrenaline replacing the exhaustion and pain. The human-made blaster rifle she was holding somehow felt light as a feather, her perception of the world narrowing down to her eye, the weapon in her hand, and the pair of Sharpclaw rushing up to where they were seeking shelter. Their thoughts were crystal clear. They were going to kill Brian. They were going to disarm her and drag her back to Scales. She wasn't going to let that happen.

As the Saurians reached the platform across from their own, the vixen planted the carbine against her shoulder as tightly as she could and pulled the trigger. She didn't hear the crack of it going off, nor did she feel it kicking into her shoulder. Time slowed for her perception, the weapon ejecting metal shells in a lazy arc as fire spat out the front end. The Sharpclaw were suddenly thrust backward, bright red splotches of blood flaring up on their armor, as if the metal and leather did nothing to prevent the act of defending herself and her friend.

After they had fallen she didn't spare a second glance. Despite the sudden pain of moving around she forced back a scream and the urge to retch, gulping a few breaths of metallic-tasting air instead as she slid the few feet over to the fallen Marine. "Is it bad? Can you still move?"

Brian bit back a few curses as he nodded. "I think so, but it hurts pretty damn bad." His fingers were already pulling his first aid kit open. He had a few more patches of quick-clot available, and had already loosened his armor enough to get at the compromised section. "Lucky damn hit. Nailed me right where that other one tried to shank me. Broke through the armor like it wasn't even there." He bandaged himself, resisting the urge to toss the compromised Dragon Skin away. "Thanks for the save, Krys. You're doing good."

Once again she was slightly thankful for the stifling mask she was forced to wear; a blush and a sheepish grin crossing her muzzle. A small part of her mind chided her for the reaction, but it was quashed under the fact she was holding her own weight. A sobering thought stopped everything else. They were both grievously wounded. Everyone was out to either kill or capture them, and they had to somehow persevere against the Sharpclaw, the Lylatian mercenaries and the massive Galdon beast which were arrayed against them. Even now she could hear the torrents of gunfire mixed with the beast's triumphant roars; a horrific symphony indeed. "What are we going to do?" Her voice betrayed the pain, exhaustion, and uncertainty that coursed through her thoughts.

After a moment Brian responded. "I'm going after that damned cannon. It's the only thing I can think of that might hurt that mini-Godzilla down there." He forced himself to stand, the lightning bolts of agony that shot up and down his left side causing him to wince. They couldn't fail, otherwise they would both die. He caught the vixen's concerned glance and continued before she had a chance to voice her objections. "I can't risk you like this, and you're in a pretty defensible position. Just hang tight, and if you see something that isn't me, don't hesitate to put it down."

Without a second thought she extended her good arm, wrapping her hand around his. "Be careful. I…" Her voice broke at the urge that ran through her thoughts, admonishment and embarrassment running through her soul as she continued. "I don't want to lose you."

The Marine wasn't sure how to respond to that. There wasn't really any time to deal with frayed emotions and mistakes right now, not with everyone in the damned place out for their blood. They had already taken enough of it in the past couple of hours. Part of him wanted to deliver a snarky response; ask her exactly why she cared about him. Another train of thought derailed everything. She was in pain, suffering from severe blood loss and right along with him in this fight. Despite all of that she was more concerned for his safety than she was for hers. "You won't. On second thought, maybe we should tackle this together."

* * *

Kale barely made it behind the cover of a boulder as the bioweapon's vomit splashed against it, causing the rock itself to sizzle and pop as if it were simply meat on a grill. The remnants of his team were busy fighting off the monster as well as the multiple Sharpclaw appearing to harass them.

The former Ranger clenched his blaster pistol in one hand, thrusting it over the dissolving boulder to fire a few bolts at the menacing, shrieking creature. "Damn it, Dragen! Please tell me you got the drone back online!" He wasn't sure how much longer they could hold out against the reptilian horror.

An uncomfortable silence followed, yet Duesett could tell the former Eradicator was still alive. Her armor integrity was slightly down yet her vitals were stable; that alone told him she was still very much capable of fighting. The thundering rattle of her squad support weapon punctuated the battle, followed by another ear-piercing shriek from the creature. "Almost! I need another distraction so I can finish rerouting the power couplings. Cover me!"

"Acknowledged!" Marsen growled, reaching into a pouch on her belt. The crimson-painted orb was a very rare, highly illegal weapon which was usually only used in the most desperate situations. She was pretty certain this counted.

Nicknamed Okratt's Blanket in deference to the fire god worshipped by some pre-Unification Cornerian sects, the white phosphorous grenade was a very nasty surprise to those unfamiliar with it. The incendiary substance would stick to most surfaces and burn quite readily; with luck it would pass through the bioweapon's armored scales. "OB out, airburst!" Marsen flicked a switch on the side of the grenade that would trigger the detonation in midair before tossing it at the creature.

The grenade performed as advertised, detonating with a hollow thump. Streaks of smoke filled the air as the incendiary material cascaded upon the massive beast. Its reaction was immediate as the phosphorous started to burn into its scales; it shrieked in agony and turned towards its new targets. Kalina readied her rifle, but was cut off by Duesett.

"Marsen! The drone's online! Let's get up there and kill the target while we still can! Dragen, get that bioweapon taken care of!" The former Ranger rushed forward, firing blaster bolts at a few errant Sharpclaw as he crossed the distance over to the primary ramp leading up to the support pillars. Marsen was hot on his heels, her PR-74 rattling its deadly song as she went. The mission had been very costly, but it was coming to a close. A smile came to her muzzle as the thought of the payoff started to become a reality.

* * *

"Krys! Stay with me!" Brian's shout shook Krystal's rapidly-fogging mind from its daze, a cold, lethargic weight starting to settle over her senses as the adrenaline coursing through her body ran out and the blood loss, pain, and shock made their presence more than known. The vixen concentrated on breathing; the hollow, rasping noises carrying to her ears. Even the pain felt detached and distant.

A sinister voice whispered in her mind, the one compelling her to simply surrender to the dark embrace which threatened to sweep over her fatigued body. It would be over quickly, no more pain. She could quit fighting and finally be at peace; she could see her family again. Putting one foot in front of the other was exhausting. Pushing back was simply too hard. Even breathing was an antithesis to her rebelling, failing body.

Another voice broke through the haze. That one was full of strength, determination, and hope; incessant in reaching out to her dulling senses. "We're almost there! We've got a shot at finishing this. I need your eyes and ears. Where are they?"

"Where... what?" She managed to respond, the voice urging her on. Everything felt so cold, so distant. She remembered feeling pain, yet she didn't any longer. Only the cold and the dark edges hovering over her blurry vision.

"The ones trying to kill us! I need your voodoo here; if I can't figure out where they're at we're both dead!" The voice continued as the vixen found herself lowered to the floor; a rough texture of wood planking greeting her vision. "You've got to try to shake this off, you're going into shock!" A loud cracking noise replaced the voice, repeating several times before falling silent once more. "The cannon's down. C'mon, Krys... I need your help! Where are these bastards?"

The voice and the loud noises shook her mind out of the confused haze for a moment. The ones who had killed her mother, that's what he meant. Brian was trying to save her from the same fate. Despite the suggestions telling her to simply surrender to the darkness and rejoin her family in the Beyond... she couldn't. Not when it meant someone else's death, too. Extending her senses felt harder than lifting a boulder, but she had to try. Her friend's life lay in the balance.

After a moment two malevolent presences drifted across her thoughts, closing in quickly as they navigated the maze of platforms and catwalks they were on, curiously removed from the battles raging beneath them. Her reply was strained, barely audible over the stifling constriction that seemed to wrap around her muzzle and force her to shout. "Close... they know where we are. Please..."

"Don't worry." The voice continued as a comforting hand grasped her own. "I'm not about to let them take you." Despite her best efforts the darkness once again took over. The last thought to cross her mind was one of hope; perhaps she would wake up after all.

* * *

Brian pulled his gas mask off, cursing its fogged lenses as he took a deep breath of air laced with the stench of sulfur and smoke. He wasn't suffering from CO2 poisoning, although that was a likely danger close to the bottom of the cavern they were in. He needed unobscured vision and quick reflexes to pull this off. He was unarmored and outnumbered; his opponents possessed greater numbers, better armor and superior firepower. The only things that stood in the way of certain death was the rifle in his hands and the carbine at his feet.

Krystal wasn't the only one that was suffering. His ribs screamed at him every time he took a breath. The throbbing, burning sensation in his side was a constant reminder that getting shot wasn't something that should be on anyone's to-do list. The round that hit him was slowed considerably by the compromised Dragon Skin and by the lump just above his hip was stuck underneath his skin and not against anything vital. That didn't stop it from hurting like a son of a bitch, though.

The fatigue and shaking caused by copious amounts of adrenaline caused the Marine's hands to shake, so he braced himself against the wooden railing of the platform he was on and waited for his targets. If they wanted him, they would have to work for it. His mind recalled lessons drilled into him not only from boot camp in San Diego, but also the years of target shooting and hunting with his father in the woods of Montana. _Steady your breathing. Focus on your front sight post. Hold over your target slightly to account for bullet drop. Tuck the stock in the natural pocket of your shoulder. Wait for your target to present itself._

Brian's thumb clicked the fire selector from safe to burst. He was as ready as he could be. The only route up to where he had decided to make his stand was covered with his sights. All he had to do was wait to take the shot when it presented itself. He didn't have to wait long.

A figure in matte black armor darted into view, holding one of the AK clones they had somehow managed to obtain. It raised its rifle, rattling off a burst of fire that struck the rock wall well above them. They likely had piss-poor trigger control and had little ideas of the capabilities of their weapon versus his. Brian squeezed the M16's trigger in response, the rifle roaring its retort into the cavern once more.

* * *

The sensors integrated into Kalina's armor pinpointed the Cerinian's position; as they closed in its lifesign monitor pinged in her ear. Their target had fallen unconscious. Shooting her had made a difference. All they had to do was to eliminate the alien guardian and they were in the clear. He was trying to find a decent shooting position, though they already had him in their sights. He was dead; he just didn't know it yet.

The vixen brought her rifle to her shoulder, sighting up her target. She stabbed the trigger, the rifle blasting out a staccato cacophony as automatic fire peppered the alien's position. With that kind of firepower she should have hit him. It was time to move.

A pale flash winked at her from the alien's position and it felt as if a Papetoon pack beast had kicked her in the stomach. She was sent to the ground with a pained grunt, an alarm blaring in her ears. The armor's integrity was nearly compromised. "Dammit! Kale, we're going to burn them!" They had to do something. The alien had already killed half their team. She wasn't going to be killed just because Dragen wanted it alive. "Just do it! We'll collect the bodies later!"

Several rifle projectiles chewed the wooden platform in front of her, the alien's uncannily accurate fire driving the mercs to the best cover they could find. The stone support pillar was better suited to the task than relying on their armor. Kale growled in frustration, glancing to his comrade as she struggled to stand back up. "Are you injured?" Despite his sensor suite telling him she had only received moderate bruising and a couple of lacerations he had to make sure she was still in the fight.

"Not badly." Kalina shot back, her voice full of venom and frustration. "DNA identification will be enough. Hand me your OB." She held her hand out expectantly. "Let's see her dodge this, right?" The former Ranger pulled the incendiary grenade from his belt and passed it over; she took it eagerly. "Just be ready to get back down to the lower level; I'm sure this will flare up very quickly!"

The vixen mercenary pressed the activation button and swung around, drawing her arm back to toss the lethal device. It would be a simple toss and move back to cover; a tactic she had used countless times in the former Corneria City Police Tactical Intervention Force she served with. Countless criminals had succumbed to stun grenades or knockout gas canisters by her hand. This would be no different.

Kalina found out a fraction of a second too late that her tactic was anticipated. The pale muzzle flash winked at her from the opposing platform once more, only this time the results were much different. The punch to her chest was more severe than it had been the last time she was hit; the integrity warning suddenly shutting off as her armor was completely compromised. The pain only lasted a moment, but the agony was excruciating as she slid to the ground. The OB grenade rolled out of her grip of its own volition as cold numbness washed over the pain, her eyes lazily tracking the object as it came to a stop against the stone pillar.

She glanced down to her chest, witnessing a series of tiny holes stitched below her right breast oozing dark red blood. She tried to cough but was only rewarded by a familiar, coppery taste flooding her tongue. Her final thought as the darkness and cold washed over her consciousness was the realization she somehow wasn't afraid. Perhaps her life really was meant to end like this.

* * *

The armored figure crumpled to the deck, its grenade rolling away from its hand as it struggled for a moment. It was a clean shot and hopefully a clean kill. Brian grit his teeth as the other figure burst around the corner, a strange-looking pistol in its grasp. A red beam snapped past his head and the Marine struggled to acquire his new target.

The world lit up in a scene straight out of _Apocalypse Now_. Fire and smoke cascaded from the platform next to the merc he had just shot; white-hot sparks filling the air and causing the platform his target was on to catch on fire like it had been soaked in gasoline. Training and experienced caused him to realize what had happened in an instant. The grenade he had stopped the merc from using was a white phosphorous bomb, or something similar.

The remaining merc was caught off guard for a split second, enough for Brian to unleash the remainder of his magazine into his opponent. The merc was driven back into the fire and smoke, though he quickly saw the tactical blunder he had wandered into. There wasn't much chance for escape. Except…

His hand reached out for Krystal's unconscious form, withdrawing the staff she had tucked into her belt. The weapon extended in his palm, reaching a length of about seven feet; enough to be considered a serious polearm. At the same time he slung his M16 over his shoulder and picked the M4 up off the deck. He had no idea if this would even work. If it did, they had a chance. If it didn't, they'd die just as surely as they would if they remained on the burning catwalks.

He thrust the M4 around the safety of the pillar, firing off a few random bursts to keep the remaining merc's head down as he tried to figure out how to activate her staff. A series of dimly glowing glyphs ran up and down the weapon's length, but he had no idea which one would project that strange energy shield or which one would cause all the slot machines in Vegas to hit a jackpot payout. He wasn't much of a gambling man, but his thumb pressed down upon one that just seemed to jump out at him.

It saved his life. The shield's purple glow enveloped him as a bright red laser beam slammed into it, stopping just a scant meter from his chest. It flashed red for a split instant, revealing the armored figure that had rushed his position while he was figuring out the staff. The ineffectiveness of the killshot caused the armored merc to balk for a moment; ample time for Brian to drop the M4 and smash it against the antagonist's knee.

The figure buckled as he put all his force into the blow, sending the merc off-balance. The laser pistol fired again, sending another bolt ineffectually into the rock ceiling several meters above their heads. A chilling, inhuman snarl echoed from the figure's helmet as it tried to bring its weapon to bear on his unconscious friend. He wasn't going to let that happen. Even if it meant dying with a high-tech stick in his hands instead of a gun.

Brian pressed the attack, thrusting the business end of the staff into the merc's chest. That drove him backwards, his body pressed against the railing of the platform as the Marine drew back for another strike. He never got to land it. The laser gun fired, the sound of its discharge some popping, pulsing whine the likes of which he had never heard before. The staff clattered to the ground as the sensation of someone extinguishing a lit cigar on his left bicep sent a shock of icy-hot pain through his body. Getting shot with a bullet was bad enough. Getting shot with a _laser_ was far more agonizing.

Instinctively he kicked forward, driving his opponent on the defensive. In such close quarters a gun wasn't all that useful, but even when fighting an armored opponent a knife could be quite handy. His good hand slipped his Ka-Bar from his belt, taking a few experimental swipes at the merc. All Marines were trained in basic martial arts; though he preferred firearms Brian was no exception.

The merc responded with an attempt to brain him with the butt of his laser pistol, the Marine receiving a glancing blow behind the ear. A wave of stars filled his vision, but his strike was already underway. The pommel of his combat knife smashed into the eyepiece of his opponent's helmet, which gave with a crunching sound and a muffled yelp of surprise under the bulky material. The laser pistol clattered to the deck, which the Marine quickly kicked behind him.

The armored opponent assumed a ready stance not unlike his own, the damaged helmet revealing a bright green eye which glared at him in a combination of anger and barely restrained fear. An inhuman growl echoed through tinny speakers, the antagonist finally speaking. "What the fuck _are_ you, alien? Some sort of Venom experiment unleashed on the system? How did you get your hands on projectile weapons?"

Brian kept at the ready, his own glare locked onto the figure. He made no attempt to reach for what looked like a Dragunov slung over his shoulder or the combat knife on his left hip. Likewise, the Marine didn't reach for his own firearms. Still, he had a couple of questions of his own to answer. "I'm just a Marine NCO that don't take bullshit. You shot me first, dickwad. Why're you trying to kill us, huh?"

"You have no idea how dangerous the Cerinian you're protecting really is, alien." The mercenary growled, tensing up to defend himself from a potential attack. "She is better off dying here than being used to resurrect Andross! That's why we're here, to kill her. She's worth six million credits to us, and the satisfaction that he stays dead. I'm sure we can work out a deal with you. A share for her life?"

Brian remained silent, unmoving. A cascade of thoughts ran through his mind. Was that why she was so special? Whatever that Andross was, the tone of disgust in their voice at the mention seemed genuine. There wasn't much of a debate. Kill her and become rich in a society he couldn't fit into anyway, or kill them and follow that particular rabbit hole where it went. How did they get their hands on AKs? Why was killing her so important? He wasn't duty bound to protect her, but he still had personal integrity and a sense of honor. He would no sooner sell her out than he would a member of his own squad.

"So what's it going to be?" The Lylatian inquired, still locked into a ready posture. "I'm former military as well. Cornerian Rangers. You're a Marine so I'm assuming you're trained in starship security. We could use someone like you. Freelance work can pay pretty damn well. Even an alien like you can be set up for life."

"I have one question." The merc perked off, offering a nod towards the Marine. "I had to swear an oath when I signed up to defend my nation, its laws, and its citizens as well as uphold the core values of the Corps. I'd think you'd have to do the same. My oath, laws, and honor specifically forbid me from murdering a defenseless civilian. Does yours?"

The merc jumped forwards, releasing a catch on the sling of his rifle and thrusting its stock with all his armor-augmented strength. The buttplate of the Dragunov clone smashed into Brian's armor, causing spikes of pain to shoot throughout his body. The bullet wound and his cracked ribs screamed at him as he fell backwards, slamming into the stone pillar. This was now or never; do or die time.

Brian bit back the pain and rushed forward, his left hand wrapping around the Dragunov's receiver. His knife flashed forward, the tip of the Ka-Bar glancing off the merc's armor with a metallic screech. He jumped back, but it was a diversion. Brian dropped the knife, his hand grabbing the rifle's stock. His momentum tore the rifle from the merc's grasp, giving him enough time to level the weapon at his chest. The Lylatian stood back in shock, yet a chuckle emanated from his speakers. "That's an advanced prototype and the safety's on. Good luck figuring out how to use it before I get to you."

"Wanna bet?" Brian's thumb flicked the fire selector down with an ominous click. The merc backed up as Brian continued, violently jabbing the Dragunov's muzzle towards him. "What I don't get is the fact you guys have laser guns and power armor and still think these damn AKs are hot shit. I'm giving you one chance and one chance only to drop your gear and get the fuck out of here. If you don't, I'm blowing a hole through you big enough to toss a football through. Got it?"

Kale took a deep breath, staring down the barrel of his own weapon and at the alien who held it on him. With a sigh he unbuckled his combat harness, letting it clatter to the deck. At that point Dragen's voice came over the comm net. "Duesett, what's going on up there? Marsen's hit and dying, and you're just standing there jabbering with that fucker? I'm coming up there, get back!"

Brian growled at the merc. "You heard me, asshole. Get moving." As the armored figure withdrew the Marine let out a sigh of relief. Now he had to figure out how to get them out of this increasingly fucked up situation.

* * *

There was no pain, only an all-encompassing numbness as she floated in the dark abyss. Was this what death felt like? A momentary pain, then nothing else? If so, where was everybody? Her family wasn't there, her friends weren't there. Her team wasn't there. They had all perished, so where was her reward? She had tried and she had failed. Just like she had failed to protect her family during the Venom War. Was this her punishment?

As if someone had flipped a switch the pain returned. Her chest flared up in agony as her senses returned to her; the life flooding back into her mind was both frightening and relieving. A squawking in her ears brought the presence of sound and the heavy scent of blood in her nostrils assured Kalina she was somehow still alive. The alien had shot her, and the grenade?

"...cious! Keep her stable. I'm going to finish this." Dragen's voice came over her headphones, a barely perceptible growl behind her words. Her eyes opened, regarding the charred wood around them and the blocky profile of Dragen's Eradicator armor standing over her body. She tried to speak but it was all she could do to breathe. The pain was excruciating.

"Hang in there, Kalina." Kale's voice called out to her. "Almost lost you. We'll get you back to the Shrike, but you've got a punctured lung. We've got them..." His voice was cut off by Dragen's.

"Heads up! The bitch is coming out. Going to dust her ass once I..." Dragen's voice stopped, a gasp coming to her lips. Kalina craned her neck, trying to figure out what had stopped her brusque comrade in her tracks. The effort almost caused her to lose consciousness, a bolt of lightning shooting up and down her back as she did so.

The target stumbled into view, despite the alien reaching out to her. As Dragen raised her HPR the Cerinian raised her staff. She was wearing a blue and white flightsuit splashed with blood. Her left arm was bandaged and in a sling and she appeared to be walking out of sheer will alone. An oxygen canister and mask dangled from her belt, yet even from thirty meters away she could see an almost unnatural glow to the other vixen's eyes. The tip of her staff glowed a bright yellow and as Dragen's finger stroked the trigger a searing, bright light enveloped them. The surprised shouts of her teammates drove into her ears as a sickening falling sensation added to her pain.

Before the darkness mercifully took her pain away, the last sight Kalina beheld was a flash of clear blue skies and a harsh sun glaring down upon a sea of fine sand.

* * *

**Notes: Well, I'm going to make this section brief as I'm already going over what I find comfortable for a chapter. This one was two months in the making and likely one of the most difficult ones I've put out in a while. Hopefully I did fairly well so please let me know how I did, good or bad. Thanks for sticking with this; your readership is greatly appreciated.**


	23. Chapter 20: In Dulce Decorum

Chapter 20: In Dulce Decorum.

A blinding afterimage just about seared Brian's retinas, competing with the flames still rising from the burning platform the mercs had been standing on a split second ago. The Marine's mind was still trying to process what, exactly, had just happened. A blazing golden bolt of energy had shot past him and slammed into the group of Lylatians, simply erasing them from existence as if God himself had decided they were an affront to the universe. He lowered the stolen Dragunov slightly, preparing to take a quick glance back to figure out what the Hell just happened.

Something stung the side of his neck, his peripheral vision catching the sparking of rifle rounds slamming into the rock pillar above his position. Stone chips dislodged by the burst fired by the one in the bulky Fallout-inspired power armor, most likely. But, what took them out? Was that... Krystal? As he turned to the look the other way his heart stopped, the simple inquiry he was about to ask sticking in his throat as he heard the vixen's staff clatter to the ground.

Krystal was slumped against the pillar, pale aqua eyes glancing down in shock at her chest and the twin red blossoms rapidly growing upon it as if they couldn't possibly be real. She struggled to lift her head and say something but failed; blood trickled from her lips as she lost her footing and collapsed to the wooden planking below.

"Jesus..." Brian gasped, training spurring him into action. He had sworn to protect her, and he had failed. Even though the practical side of his mind was screaming the simple fact she was dead, he had to do something. Already overloaded with gear, he slung the rifle over his shoulder, stuck her staff in her belt and scooped the mortally wounded Cerinian into his arms, disregarding the stickiness of her blood as it soaked into his fatigues.

The WP grenade that detonated on the other platform was consuming the wood structure, but it was the only direct way down to the main floor. If it collapsed, they were stuck... and her chances of survival diminished every second. There had to be another way...

The Marine's eyes caught the platform the Sharpclaws' cannon was mounted on, noticing the set of rails that ran parallel between it and the ground. _It was mobile_. Ignoring the raging fire behind him he rushed towards the silent artillery piece, watched over only by the corpse of the reptilian belligerent he had shot only a few minutes before. An inner voice screamed at him. _'Such a wonderful time for things to go completely to Hell.'_ "C'mon, hang in there... I'm getting you out..."Brian uttered a quick prayer, hoping beyond hope for some sort of miracle.

Deep inside, however, somehow he understood it was already too late. The mercs, in death, got what they wanted; whatever scum-sucking client had hired them didn't even need to remit payment. If he got out of here alive he would track the bastard down and put a bullet in their heart. A sickening feeling washed over him as the stricken vixen convulsed in his arms, a choking, rattling gasp coming from her lips as she tried to draw breath from lungs too damaged to work. She wasn't the first one to lay dying in his arms; that particular thought drawing a well of rage inside the young soldier.

Evan Mills. Only nineteen years old, fresh out of boot. New to the squad, before Brian was an NCO. Shot by a Taliban sniper. His last moments were spent shedding his blood onto some God-forsaken rock on Afghanistan while the rest of the squad tried to pin the sorry son of a bitch that shot him. He hadn't deserved it. Neither did Krystal. Just one more friend he had failed to protect; someone who depended on him for their life and was let down. The only difference was that he would carry her out of Hell.

He ignored the burning in his arm and the tickling sensation as blood trickled down his side as he kicked the wooden lever that he thought would engage the elevator mechanism. He only noticed the tears streaming down his cheeks when they met their end upon Krystal's still form; was it because of the stinging volcanic gasses or something else? He wasn't sure anymore.

The wooden rail a couple of feet to his left exploded in a shower of splinters, a muted _crack_ echoing in his ears as the Marine's eyes tracked the handful of Sharpclaw on the ground that were still able to fight. With a heavy heart he settled his dying friend onto the deck, blood-slickened hands retrieving his M16 once more. He wouldn't break his promise this time.

* * *

The sun cascaded down upon her cerulean fur, the air heavy with humidity and laced with the sweet, inviting scent of the _Tilai_ flowers which were starting to bloom along the banks of the lake on her family's property. Krystal was perched upon a chair she had borrowed from the pavilion outside their home, an ancient estate originally built for her family during the Uahan Era. Several generations of Haleths lived their lives here; they were but the latest in a rich history of service to the people they were entrusted with guiding.

Emerald eyes gazed at the pages of the old tome she had been reading; the assignment due to the High Guardian running their training class once instruction resumed in a few days. She gave a sigh of frustration at the subject matter, trying to unravel cryptic mysteries hidden within the pages; obscured by the copious metaphors and arcane language the priesthood was so fond of using.

"The Prime World is the counterbalance to the existence of Cerinia. As Cerinia balances the Night Star, the Prime balances Cerinia. During the Great Guidance of Elder Kerchek, the Rift allowed Cerinians to visit the Prime. Their wisdom and the Art made them greatly received, yet the Rift broke and the Prime remains lost to us all." The young vixen mused over this, offering a heavy sigh to the air. "This is just an old myth. There aren't even any records other than this that even mention this 'Prime World' or a 'Rift.' Why waste our time on learning these things?"

"Because a Guardian must be aware of our history, star blossom." Her mother's voice almost startled her, turning around to see her parent standing a few meters away. "However, if High Guardian Genan is this lax with training in the Art, then there might be reason to bring this up to him. As a Guardian Potential, you should have been able to sense me approach, Krystal."

The younger Cerinian sighed, turning away from her mother to look out over the lake. "I must strive to develop my talents. You know what becoming a Guardian means to me, mother. The chance to get out into the other prefectures, helping others, serving my people…"

"…and an escape." Yitana finished, her tone slightly heavy with disappointment. "You guard your thoughts well, but you don't guard your distaste about Koleth as well. You must learn how to trust your betrothed, Krystal. He will be by your side once you take the Council seat, and your time spent as a Guardian will come to an end eventually."

"You don't know him as well as I do, mother." Krystal huffed, carefully marking her place in the ancient religious text and setting it on the soft grass next to her. "Couldn't I be trusted to choose my own betrothed? One whose thoughts aren't centered on cementing our mateship?" Her mother's muzzle twitched at this. What she had to say was somewhat crass and perhaps rude, yet her frustration at her assignment and her lack of progress with her Aspect of the Art fueled her retort.

"It isn't that simple, Krystal." Yitana shook her head, placing a hand on her daughter's shoulder. "The people will only accept Council members who have the right to lead, such as yourself… or those expected to lead well. The heir of a trading house such as Koleth is a natural choice for the people. Unfortunately those are the sacrifices we must make to choose the right leaders to guide us. Especially with the increasing Lylatian influence on our society."

"And don't you see why I want to be away from it all, at least for a while? If I am to be given away to a male such as him, I don't wish to do it now. I wish to experience Cerinia while I can. Help our people and serve more directly."

"I understand, star blossom. Yet, there comes a time where you must learn what it means to be a Council member, and not just a Guardian. Your father and I will not be around forever to guide you, and once you take the Seat you will have to rely on your judgment, as well as Koleth's…"

Her mother's voice faded and became ever distant as waves of pain assailed her body. She didn't seem to notice as Krystal doubled over in agony and fell off her chair, a cacophony of voices screaming in her ears as she struggled to draw breath. The conflicting voices became more resonant, a single message driven into her mind as oblivion threatened to drive her over the edge with a cascade of suffocating discomfort. _"You are the link to the Prime! You have the Beacon! Die here, vixen, and hope dies with you! Their sacrifices will be in vain! Go ahead, be weak and let the Void take you! Destroy the hopes and dreams of your entire race!"_

Despite the voices urging her to fight, she just… couldn't. She gasped, but was rewarded with nothing. It felt as if she was drowning. A stab of pain pierced her heart as a dark veil settled over her senses. Her entire body felt cold. Numb. Distant. Somehow she knew this was the end of her life. Even as confusion as to what happened to her set in, she could feel her tenuous grasp on the mortal world slipping away.

* * *

"Come get some, you son of a bitch…" Brian muttered to the Sharpclaw that dove out of the way of his line of fire as the elevator hit the ground. His throat burned and his eyes stung with the volcanic gasses that assailed his senses, but he couldn't stop now. To stop was to die along with Krystal. To die was to break his unspoken promise. He wouldn't have that. The lizardman peeked out from behind the boulder he was using as cover; he promptly took the shot. As the M16 pulsed in his blood-slick grip the Sharpclaw pitched backwards. The bolt on the rifle locked back, empty.

Instinctively he reached for the pistol at his side, the old .45 pointed at the next pair of Saurians to close in on his position. The one with the musket fell first, two rounds punched into his chest. His friend joined him a quarter second later, before the pistol's booming report finished echoing off the rocks. Finally, he was clear.

Brian returned to her, a gnawing feeling eating at him as he surveyed her crumpled, bloodied body lying on the elevator platform. With another silent prayer he pressed a hand to the side of her throat, hoping to feel something. Anything. Seconds passed as the sickening sensation returned, threatening to overwhelm him. Her pulse was faint, slow, and erratic; drawing upon snippets of conversation with his mother only brought him to the conclusion that without a fully staffed ER with some pretty talented doctors she likely wouldn't make it.

As if he were cradling the child he never had he gingerly retrieved her limp form, once again ignoring the burning sensation coursing through his body as his arm, chest, and side protested their treatment. He had to get out of here, but he wasn't going to leave her behind. He owed it to her.

He made it only a few yards before hearing something that chilled his blood. The angry, primitive roar rising from a mass which he thought was a distant part of the cave floor. The gargantuan beast started to rise from the ground, steam rising from its blistered, charred scales. Before it had looked like some kid's attempt at making a monster capable of fighting Godzilla. Now it looked like it had risen from the bowels of Hell itself.

He didn't have much time left down here. Another headache swarmed at the edges of his senses, hungrily attacking his mental acuity. The blood loss and pain didn't help that much, either. As he set his friend's body down on the cave floor, Brian was all too aware of the limited time he had to escape the volcanic gasses and lethal CO2 levels before he would remain here permanently. Instead of reaching for his M16 the Marine extracted his recently appropriated laser pistol. Perhaps it had a better chance at hurting the building-sized monster that was skittering forward, hungry for blood.

* * *

Eight. Only eight out of an original workforce of forty. Only eight of her fellow Snowhorns were alive and strong enough to help change the tide of the battle raging in the mines beyond. Belina Te resisted the urge to trumpet her displeasure to the rock walls which surrounded them. The furless creature and the young Cerinian were the only ones who were fighting for their freedom and Sauria's fate depended on them. Standing back and hoping for the best outcome didn't suit the Gatekeeper's daughter.

"Firesticks or no, we _must_ help them." Belina's voice boomed inside the chamber, drawing upon the same tone of authority her father used. "The Cerinian was injured and the furless one was quite fatigued when he was carrying her. They're fighting for our freedom and our lives. It is the only option we have."

"What about the Sharpclaw?" One of them uttered a retort. "If they kill both of them, they will surely kill any of us that helped them. I supported your original decision to appease these beasts; do we really wish to anger them further?"

"I made a mistake." Belina admitted, turning around to face the entrance of the mines. "It is time for me to atone for it. They enslaved us. If we survive Scales' rush for power, do you believe he will simply let us go? Or will he starve us to death as we work down here?"

"I agree with her." A few voices joined that one, murmurs of approval echoing through the chamber. "If we act in concert with these strangers, we might have a chance. However, we need to act immediately. I stand by our Gatekeeper's daughter. Who among of us will also do the same?"

Grumbles of agreement broke the relative silence, followed by a trumpeting Snowhorn battle call. While mild-mannered and peaceful, a group of angry mammoths defending their home was a fearsome sight for anyone who stood to oppose them.

* * *

There was no recoil. Only a slight vibration and a simple snapping _pop_ that accompanied a blazing scarlet beam as Brian pulled the laser pistol's trigger. The beam flew straight and true with no deviations, its tracer effect allowing the Marine to see where it impacted. A small portion of the creature's scaled belly flared an angry shade of ruby, a pained screech escaping its maw as beady, black eyes the size of truck tires glared at him.

The laser was capable of hurting it. Good. He had no idea how long the weapon's battery would last, but it was safe to assume that it used far more juice than your average Walkman. He had other weapons if it fizzled out on him. Until that happened, however, he would use it. Several more bolts lanced out of the weapon as he rushed forward, praying he would find a weak spot before he passed out.

The lasers seemed to have an effect on the beast; it recoiled backwards before bellowing out a challenge. A dissonant image flashed in front of his mind's eye; he was a young kid playing that old video game _Doom. _He had virtually battled the denizens of Hell and was really getting into the game… until he ran face to face with a house-sized, rocket-launching badass. It had scared the crap out of him. That cold grip of terror threatened to climb out of his stomach once again; only the realization that it would spell his death as well as Krystal's kept it from taking over. As it was he sought out cover, launching himself behind one of the large support pillars.

The wounded creature shrieked in frustration, arching back and vomiting forth a vending machine-sized glob of putrid green bile. The organic missile sailed past Brian's position, carrying with it a stench that made him wish he had enough time to put his gas mask back on. The experience of doing jumping jacks in a room full of tear gas was like a fresh summer breeze in comparison. His eyes instantly watered and stung even worse than what the volcanic gasses could dish out. The disgusting mass impacted the ground, washing over a boulder standing thirty yards away. The rock started sizzling and smoking, its mass starting to dissolve like it was a sugar cube placed in boiling water.

There had to be a way to stop it. Brian's headache was getting to the point where it demanded his attention, a sign that he needed to get to higher ground as soon as he could. But how? If he tried to grab Krystal and make a run for it, they would be easy pickings for the beast. But if he stayed and slugged it out, she would bleed to death and he would suffocate not long afterwards.

The Marine coughed, throat starting to burn from the corrosive gasses in the air. An idea sprung to mind, his eyes calculating the distance between the platforms above and the rampaging monster on ground level. If he could just get it to go over to the right a bit further, he might have a chance. Brian darted out into the open, firing several laser bolts at the creature. Upon spotting him it gave a triumphant howl, skittering over to launch another glob of highly corrosive vomit. He grit his teeth, aim shifting upwards to the burning platform the mercs had been on. The wooden planking was noticeably sagging, and if he could just land a good hit…

He pulled the laser pistol's trigger, a series of angry bolts slamming into the supports overhead. Already charred and weakened from the flames, a couple of random hits were all it needed. The groaning structure gave with a _snap_ that was louder than a gunshot, the entire works tumbling through the air.

The monster glanced upward but didn't have time to get out of the way before several tons of wood slammed down upon its head and back. As weakened as it was, it was knocked to the ground in an impact that almost caused Brian to lose his footing. The beast struggled to get up, roaring its rage to anyone left alive to hear it, yet the burning platform was enough to effectively pin it to the ground.

The profile of a jewel about the size of his torso glinted on a chain around the creature's throat. There was no mistaking their objective, the Spellstone Krystal told him about. There would be time to go back down and retrieve it later; the Marine had more pressing concerns. Without a second glance back he sprinted toward the spot he left Krystal, uttering another silent prayer he wasn't too late. There wasn't any time to check her vitals, and the headache was starting to introduce its good friend dizziness into the mix.

Brian was faced with a decision to make. Carting around four rifles and combat gear for three wasn't going to be an option much longer. Not if he wanted to get out of the damned cave. He shed almost everything he had acquired, keeping the handguns, laser pistol, and Krystal's M4. He could get everything later. It took him three tries to pick her up off the ground; his body starting to rebel with the abuse it had been through the past few days. Everything was screaming at him, his arms, legs, chest… he was reaching his limit. Grasping his mortally wounded friend close, his world was reduced to only one action: One foot in front of the other.

* * *

Belina Te marched forward, the other Snowhorn behind her back. The Sharpclaw proved to be cowardly in their nature; while they reveled in beating weak, isolated members of her tribe, they dropped their weapons and ran at the sight of a group of them offering plenty of resistance. The few who attempted to follow their standing orders after experiencing many different flavors of outsider weaponry were gored by the horns and stomped by the feet of those they had oppressed. They weren't a violent race, yet the atrocities visited upon them had to be answered in the only language the Sharpclaw understood: force.

"There can't be many left. Not after what happened here." One of the others mused, casting a glance at a pair of Sharpclaw bodies outside the line of storage rooms they had used for a makeshift prison. That wasn't their doing; the deceptively small wounds of the aliens' firesticks made that perfectly obvious.

"We still need to remain cautious." Another one spoke up. "We do not know if the others are going to…"

"Wait." Belina cut him off, glancing toward the ramp that led down to the main chamber to the mine. The sounds of battle were strangely absent; considering the presence of the armored aliens who seemed to be tracking down the Cerinian and her companion. Instead, the soft sound of footsteps from a small creature seemed to echo off the rock walls. The group of Snowhorn stood their ground, spreading out as much as they could. Whether the newcomers were Sharpclaw or the armor-clad aliens they would be as prepared as they could be; their only chance at victory would be to quickly rush in to stop them from firing their deadly firesticks.

Their caution was warranted but not necessary. A barked order from Belina kept them from rushing in. The figure that approached was that of the furless, scaleless alien that rescued her from her prison cell. The mottled clothing which he wore was completely ruined, mostly soaked through with the reddish-brown shade of dried blood. The cause for all the blood was immediately apparent. The Cerinian's limp form was held in his arms, drying crimson rivulets cascading down the form-fitting coverings she also wore.

She couldn't understand the words he spoke, but the fear, urgency, and exhaustion behind the alien's voice was far more important than what he was trying to say. They needed help, help which they were honorbound to give.

* * *

The mercs' ship was the closest place he could think of that might hold some sort of medical supplies. He hoped to God he was right, as Krystal's vitals were fading fast. He had no baseline for how her species handled massive blood loss and severe trauma, but the talks with his mom as well as the training courses he went through as a squad leader gave Brian a basic idea of how she was faring.

The answer was not good. The bleeding from her gunshot wounds had slowed drastically, although accompanied by an extremely weak, slow pulse. Frankly, it was miraculous that she was even alive. She was breathing but only barely. While the first shot had punched clean through her body the second hadn't; there was no telling what damage it had done. The vixen's breathing was erratic and shallow, likely the result of a punctured lung. He had no way to be sure.

The mammoths that followed him here seemed to know what they were doing. They took guard positions around the sleek, obsidian craft, waiting to ward off the Sharpclaw. He couldn't tell them the mercs had been dealt with, or at least as far as he knew.

"Almost there. Hang on, Krys. Just please hang on…" His voice choked at that. Without adequate facilities there was no saving her. There was only the fervent hope that Lylatian medical technology was advanced enough to deal with something like this. The Marine gently set her down on the frozen ground near the ship's entrance ramp, his hands readying the M4 for potential action.

He had fished a key card from the corpse of who he assumed to be the pilot he shot earlier, laid out next to one of the armored figures he had dropped a grenade on earlier. It should be sufficient enough for entry. The door controls gave a chime and slid open, revealing a well lit cargo area about the size of a large walk-in closet. Training took over as Brian took a step inside, carbine leading the way.

Small crates were stacked almost to the ceiling, presumably supplies of some nature. Another door led to the main body of the craft; Brian slid into the ship, primed and ready for resistance. There wasn't any. The interior was quite spartan, reminding him of a cross between a small RV and the typical barracks housing he had been assigned in boot camp. A small kitchen, recreation, and washroom area lay beyond the cargo hold, with a door leading to what was likely a toilet and small shower. Beyond that, twin rows of three bunks indicated a common sleeping area, and past that what looked to be a couple of computer terminals and an arms locker. Beyond that, an open door revealed what was obviously the bridge. The place was completely devoid of life.

Brian exited the craft without a word, retrieving his fallen friend and waking back in. After cleaning off the nearest bunk he gently laid her down, taking a quick moment to check her vitals. It had been around two hours since she was shot in the shoulder. Hazarding a guess, perhaps only twenty minutes had elapsed since she was shot again. At this point, unless he could find something to save her she was well past that golden hour mark his mom drilled into his head.

They had to have a first aid kit or something like that around somewhere. Brian glanced to where the mercs stored their equipment. The arms locker was mostly empty; a couple of the AK74 clones were secured in a gun rack along with a laser carbine of some sort, accompanied by what looked like a few power cells for the laser weapons and a few scattered AK magazines. The equipment lockers mostly carried clothing, sets of civilian gear, military uniforms he didn't recognize, and a few padded bodysuits similar to the one Krystal was wearing. It wasn't until he got to one of the last lockers that he found it.

The sturdily-constructed case was emblazoned with a symbol the Marine didn't recognize; a wreath of sorts with a crossed sword and spear in the center. The legend _CDF Field Casualty Kit_, however, seemed to explain its purpose. He wrestled the case over to the bunk, cursing under his breath. It must have weighed well over a hundred pounds. Upon opening the latches and examining the contents he understood why.

The case was essentially a mobile field hospital, probably a larger variation of the more complete trauma kit kept inside vehicles. Most of the equipment he didn't recognize, although oxygen bottles, syringes, and IV solutions were pretty self-explanatory. The most curious inclusion was what looked like a ruggedized laptop computer with '_Nanite Diagnosis/Repair Terminal- Activate FIRST_' emblazoned upon the lid. Setting his curiosity aside and glancing at his dying companion he opened it.

The boot time was nearly instantaneous. Instead of a standard LCD screen a holographic projection appeared in front of him, the same crest blinking off and on. A prompt with two selections replaced it, much like a computer's dialog box. "**Serious Illness or Combat Casualty?"**Brian pressed the latter.

**"Is Operator A Trained Medical Practitioner?" **Brian selected the 'no' option.

**"Please pick up the highlighted diagnosis nanite syringe. Inject 10cc of nanite solution into a designated location. Allow one minute for injury assessment and preliminary stabilization."** A rather detailed diagram of where to find suitable veins on what looked to be several different species was brought up. The 'Canid/Vulpine' diagram looked pretty close to Krystal, and from what he could tell was at least passably close to human anatomy.

Taking a deep breath he felt for her pulse, fingers tracing her carotid artery. It was slowing down, although it meant she was at least still alive. "God, please make this work." His plea was accentuated by placing the syringe's needle against the cephalic vein in her arm. A moment of brushing her fur aside revealed where he needed to inject; soon afterwards the requested amount of viscous gray fluid was in her system. As he pulled the needle out he grasped her hand, hoping to provide some measure of comfort while he glanced back at the holographic screen.

**"Warning, genetic patterns not a complete match in database. Closest match: Female Vulpine, 94.3 percent probability. Approximate age: 16-20. Blood Pressure: 50/45, pulse 28bpm. WARNING: Vital signs critical! Beginning stabilization attempt and remote diagnosis.**

** "Massive hemorrhaging detected. Probable cause: multiple shrapnel injuries. Blood loss estimated at 45 percent. Please remove clothing around wound areas and apply indicated sealing gel."**

Brian's face was a mask of urgent professionalism as he slowly lifted her off the bunk. Within moments he unzipped her bodysuit, tugging it off down to her waist. He couldn't think of modesty at a time like this; if she wanted to argue about his actions later, she could do it when she wasn't in danger of bleeding to death. He went to work, grabbing a large tube and slathering its thick gel into her wounds; the stuff was warm to the touch and stopped the constant trickling of blood. He laid her back down, wiping the excess gel onto his pants and glancing back towards the holographic display.

**"Primary diagnosis complete. Injuries include three wound channels consistent with high-velocity shrapnel approximately 5.5mm in diameter. Signs of multiple lacerations to abdominal tract detected, mostly healed. Left lung is collapsed. Subject CO2 levels highly elevated. Beginning stabilization process. Please ready blood substitute canisters and oxygen delivery system at this time."**Two white canisters were highlighted as well as one of the oxygen bottles; Brian wrestled the latter out of the case. Within moments of following a flurry of on-screen instructions she was prepared; another oxygen mask placed on her muzzle and the blood substitute IVs had been started. As he did so a few diagnostic displays appeared on the screen, basic blood pressure, pulse, respiration, and what he assumed was an EKG readout. He wasn't an expert, but whatever was happening seemed to be helping.

**"Subject vital signs stabilized. Estimated chance of recovery 57.5 percent. Foreign object detected. Object analysis: Tungsten projectile, approximately 18mm in length, 5.5mm in diameter. Location: Embedded in upper chest cavity. Please inject 25cc of nanite solution into secondary blood substitute canister. Estimated time of object decomposition: 28 hours."** Brian quickly did what he was told, his actions reduced to parroting what the miracle machine said. After injecting the solution into the canister he sat back, simply content to stay on the floor. Somehow he had managed to beat the odds. Perhaps it would allow her to do so as well. His hand wound around hers; about the only comfort he could give her at that point. All he could do at that point was to wait. Despite the cold, unyielding floor and his own untended wounds Brian rapidly found exhaustion overtaking him. They would be safe now, for a while at least.

**Notes: Thanks for being patient. As far as it goes, the next chapter might take a while so please continue holding onto that patience. As of the posting of this chapter(19 April 2013), I will be moving in about a month so all my energies must go to packing things up and getting on my way. I don't know when my Net access will resume, but I'll be working on the next one as I have free time to do so.**

**Special thanks to Chaos Leader and Jyrfalcon345 for some advice, reading, and editing help. Without that it's doubtful this would have been completed before I made my big jump cross-country, so be a sport, read what they've got and send them some well-deserved reviews.**


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